


...and a funeral

by Signe_chan



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1205905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil attends his father's funeral and Clint tags along for the ride. </p><p>“But he wasn’t around, and that’s the thing when your parents die, you feel like instead of going in to every fight with backup, you are going into every fight alone.”<br/>― Mitch Albom, For One More Day</p><p>Now beta read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...and a funeral

**Author's Note:**

> This work has now been beta read by Trojie so hopefully that'll have dealt with my chronic inability to see my own typos. Thank you! 
> 
> I tagged this with character death and canonical character death as it deals with the loss of a parent (character death) and also because there's discussion of Phil's death, though obviously he got better. Basically I set of to write a cute fake relationship fic and somehow ended up writing something about death and coping with death too so there's that. But there's also the fake relationship aspect in there. 
> 
> Also, I've included the Coulson family tree as I've drawn it at the end. I've tried to keep it simple to follow through the fic but one of my major complaints with fictional families are they're often small which doesn't reflect my experience of family so I gave Phil a massive extended family and then found out WHY authors normally keep the families they're writing about small.

_“But she wasn’t around, and that’s the thing when your parents die, you feel like instead of going in to every fight with backup, you are going into every fight alone.”_  
― Mitch Albom, For One More Day

Captain America’s theme flooded the motel room as Phil’s personal mobile started to ring. He sat back from the computer, rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced over to where Clint was sprawling on one of the grubby-looking motel beds. Clint didn’t give any indication that he was listening but Phil knew that, with the training Clint had been through, there was no way he wasn’t. It didn’t matter, as of three hours ago the operation was over so he was on his own time and it wasn’t like he hadn’t taken personal calls in front of Clint before.

He glanced at the screen to see that it was his parents house number which probably meant his mom and connected the call.

“Hello.”

“Phil,” his mom said. Her voice was unusually quiet and there was something off in her tone. Not good news, then. “I’m so sorry to have to do this. I need you to come home…”

“Mom.”

“Your dad...he wasn’t in any pain, Phil. He just...I thought he was still asleep so I left him and he didn’t get up. When he didn’t come down to breakfast I thought…”

“Are you there alone?” Phil interrupted, his mind already forming strategies like this was a mission. He’d been expecting this call for a while. His dad was 89 and he’d been having trouble with his heart and his digestion. Still, no matter how ready he’d thought he was the reality of it felt like a hand was settling around his own heart.

“Isobelle’s been here since midday, and your Auntie Ellen will be here in an hour or so. I think I’m staying with her tonight. I can’t sleep in that bed, Phil.”

“I know you can’t, Mom,” Phil said, keeping his tone level. “I need to phone into work but I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is Isobelle there right now? Can I talk to her?”

“Yes,” his mom said. He listened as she set the phone down and walked away, calling to Isobelle. At least it was a weekday so there probably weren’t children crawling all over the place. The curse of a large family was children at every kind of meeting and the last thing his mom would need right now was to hold it together for them.

He heard Clint behind him and looked over to see that the other man was standing. Something must have shown on his face or in his voice because Clint headed over, laying a hand on his shoulder. Phil wouldn’t have normally allowed the gesture, it wasn’t professional, but right now being professional could go to hell. His dad was dead.

“Phil?” Isobelle said down the phone line.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“You’d better get your butt home,” she said. “I don’t care how important your job is, Uncle Ben’s dead.”

“I know,” Phil said with a sigh. He was never going to be close to Isobelle. She would never stop blaming him for missed Christmases and Thanksgivings and a million other days and events. He normally didn’t let it bother him but he could use not having to deal with her animosity on top of everything else right now. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Do you need me to arrange anything?”

“You can arrange everything,” she said sharply. “I’m far too busy. You need to come and sort this out. He was your dad.”

“I know, Iss. Can we not do this now?” Phil asked. Clint’s hand began massaging his shoulder. Phil recognised it as an ‘I’m here boss’ and appreciated the thought though it didn’t help right now. “I’ll be there as soon as I physically can. Can you at least call everyone? You know them better then me. I’ll do all the paperwork and planning if you can handle telling the family.”

“Alright,” Isobelle grumbled. “I can do that, I guess. This is all just too much, Phil.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But we knew it was coming. I should be there by this time tomorrow; sooner if I drive through the night.”

“Stay safe,” Isobelle said. “It won’t help Auntie Jean if you’re hurt too. Just get home safe.”

“I will. Tell Mom bye for me.”

“I will,” Isobelle said, then she hung up. Phil sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Clint. Clint was looking down at him with an unreadable expression.

“Looks like you’re going to have to get another ride home,” he said, getting up again and reaching to snag his work phone. The one with a line to Fury. “I’ll call in and see if they can send someone for you.”

“Don’t be an ass, sir,” Clint said, tightening his grip on Phil’s shoulder a fraction. “I’m not leaving you to drive home alone right now.”

“This wasn’t unexpected, Clint. He’d been…well, it’s been expected for a while. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know,” Clint said, leaning forward to lay his free hand on Phil’s other shoulder. Phil knew he shouldn’t find this grounding but he was weak. “But, look, at least let me drive with you. We can trade shifts so you can get some sleep but still get home quickly. I know you’re tired from the mission, Sir. Looks like you’re going to need all the energy you can get. We can argue about if I’m going to stay when we get there.”

Phil knew he should argue. He normally went to great lengths to keep work and family separate. Hell, none of the family even knew what he did. Dad had been closest to the truth but it had been a long time since they’d really been able to talk about it. His memory hadn’t been so great in the last few years and he’d resented the loss of mobility and the pity of people like Isobelle who only meant well which had left him tired and surly. They’d not talked, not like they used to.

And now he never would again.

He’d thought he’d been ready for this. If the way his chest was tightening was any indication he clearly wasn’t as ready as he’d thought.

“Fine,” he said, because it wasn’t like Clint would take no for an answer anyway. “You can drive with me.”

“Thanks, sir,” Clint said, like Phil was doing him some kind of favour. “You want to call it in or shall I?”

“I’ll get it,” Phil said, defensive. He wasn’t about to suddenly not be able to do his job just because of this. “You start to pack up here.”

“Yes sir,” Clint said. When he moved Phil missed the hands on his shoulders almost immediately.

***

“Boss, wake up.”

Phil snapped awake, sitting up in his seat and scanning for danger before he realised they were rolling peacefully down the interstate, taking him home. He glanced at the clock on the dash and sighed. 9AM. Better time than he’d hoped to make. He intentionally didn’t let himself think about how many speed limits Clint might have been breaking while he was asleep.

“You need to give me directions,” Clint said. Phil blinked at him for a second.

“Well, drive to the airport and I’ll drop you there.”

“No,” Clint said, hand flexing around the steering wheel. “I want to help out, sir. Come on, you’re not telling me you can’t use a friend right now. And don’t insult me with the ‘you’re an asset, not a friend’ speech, I think we’re beyond that.”

Phil couldn’t say anything to that. It was true, he could use a friend. There was a reason he didn’t come home too often. Not that his family weren’t good people but, well, they were family. He could only take so much of them in one go. Also Clint had been driving most of the night. Phil could at least give him a few hours sleep and sort out a proper ride home for him. It’d make him feel more even about the whole thing.

“Fine,” he said. “You can come with. But you mention S.H.I.E.L.D. and you’re out.”

“Your family don’t know?” Clint asked with a raised eyebrow. Phil laughed.

“You haven’t met them yet. No, they don’t know anything. It’s MUCH better that way. They think I’m an accountant. It’s boring enough that none of them want to be involved. My family can be a little...invasive. The less they know the easier my life is.”

“I guess,” Clint said with a shrug. “I mean, you’re right. I don’t know you family. Hello, I don’t even know who’s in your family. Do you have brothers? Sisters?”

“I’m an only child,” Phil said, watching Clint’s face for reaction. “We’re kind of a sprawling family thought. I have a small army of aunts and uncles and cousins and all my cousin’s kids who’re going to be around for the funeral.”

“There’ll be kids at the funeral?” Clint asked with a look of surprise. Phil laughed.

“My family’s never backed away from teaching kids the reality of life and that included death. Also, well, we only seem to get together for births, marriages and deaths so we treat everything as a party. My Aunt Carol died of bowel cancer a couple of years ago and we had a massive party, more of a wake I guess. Less dancing, more crying. I’m guessing Dad would want something the same. He said at the time when he went out he wanted to go out like Carol.”

“I can see the appeal,” Clint admitted. “I mean, it’s giving something to the people who loved you I guess.”

“That’s the general idea,” Phil agreed. “A space to grieve. You know, it’s still not too late to turn back before you get drawn into all this madness. It’s too late for me but you could escape.”

“That’s alright, sir,” Clint said with a grin. “It’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve been to a family event. It’ll be an experience.”

“You can only say that with a smile because you don’t know what kind of experience it’ll be,” Phil said with a sigh. Clint quickly dropped the smile for something more appropriately sombre and Phil tried not to feel bad about that. “Take the left here, I’ll phone to let them know we’re coming.”

***

The street was packed out with cars which was never a good sign. They seemed to form a wall of protection around the modest bungalow his parents had lived in since the day they got married. The old place was looking a little run down and he felt a vague twist of guilt that he hadn't been around to fix it up.

Isobelle's oldest boy was sat on the steps outside smoking. He'd probably gotten tired of the bickering inside. Phil spent the few seconds it took for him and Clint to gather their bags trying to remember his name but. If that wasn’t a sign that maybe he’d been away too long he didn’t know what was. But, when they finally reached the steps, he could say "Hello, Joe."

"Hey, Uncle Phil," Joe said, slouching to his feet. "Mom's gonna be glad to see you."

"I’m sure she will," Phil said neutrally. She'd sounded less than happy when he'd phoned to let her know he was almost there. Even more so when he’s said he'd have someone with him. "Who's here?"

"Mom, your Mom, Auntie Ellen, Auntie Paige and Joy, right now. I think more are coming after school."

"Great," Phil sighed. The army has already descended. "How's everyone holding up?"

Joe shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette, looking away. Phil gave up on getting anything else out of him. He'd never been close to any of the younger generation of the family. Hadn't been around enough within their lifetimes to grow close. He knew Isobelle's mob better than most of the others if only because they lived so close to his parents so he saw them more. Still, it had been a while since he'd spoken to Joe. The last time had probably been Doug's wedding two years ago.

He started up the steps, Clint close on his heel. Having Clint there made it feel oddly like walking into an operation instead of walking home. He guessed the comparison wasn't so far from the truth today.

It was noisy inside, though the entry was blessedly quiet. He dumped his bag and watched as Clint dumped his.

"Alright," he said. "Let me introduce you then you can go crash for a few hours in the guest room."

"You sure you won't need me for anything?" Clint asked, frowning and stepping closer like they were moving to face an enemy threat and not Phil’s family.

"Not right now," Phil assured him. "I'll need to do some funeral planning but nothing I can’t handle."

"Alright," Clint agreed easily. He must be tired or he'd try to muscle through anyway. Phil would rather not subject him to everyone else at this point but they'd only annoy him about it if he brought someone in and they thought he was hiding that person. He suspected Clint would sleep easier if he knew who else was in the house anyway.

He squeezed Clint's shoulder briefly and moved through to the kitchen. Predictably for this time in the morning it was full of women. His mum was sat in the seat of honour at the small kitchen table, a cigarette between her fingers and a cup of coffee clutched in her hand. She looked so much older than he'd expected and he was hit with the guilt again.

Auntie Ellen was sat next to her, matching coffee and cigarette. She'd been a prominent figure in Phil's childhood and he still found her a little intimidating now. He couldn't count how many times he'd come into the kitchen to find his mom here with her sisters around her. Ellen had been almost a second mother to him, especially since her sons were born only about six months after he was. Paige, the other woman in the kitchen, was her daughter in law and Phil had always liked her down-to-earth attitude. She stood at the counter making sandwiches with Isobelle who looked to have lost weight again.

Joy, Paige's daughter, was lounging against the counter watching the two older women cook. She looked up with bored eyes when Phil came in. She'd probably been roped in to being here. He couldn't blame her if she'd rather be away from the stale smell of cigarettes.

Ellen saw him first, saying his name and standing. He stepped forward to give her a hug as the women at the counter turned around. For a few minutes he was passed between them as they all told him how sorry they were and how old he was looking and how he needed a sandwich/cup of coffee/pie/good man to love him. Finally he found himself faced with his mom. He pulled her tight, almost like he wished he could hug the sadness out of her.

"Oh Phil," she sighed against his neck. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Sorry it took me so long to get here," he said, stepping back.

"How did you get here?" Isobelle snapped, apparently done fussing over him and ready to be annoyed again. "We weren't expecting you for hours. I told you not to drive through the night."

"I didn't," Phil said.

"I did," Clint offered. He looked awkward, loitering on the edge of the room. Phil was aware he'd been getting some odd looks. It had been a very long time since Phil had brought someone home with him. "Hi."

"This is Clint," Phil said, "he's a friend. Clint, this is my mother." Clint stepped forward quickly to shake her hand. She smiled distantly but didn't seem to concerned. He couldn’t blame her. She probably had other things on her mind. "This is my Aunt Ellen," another hand shake, "and my cousins Isobelle and Paige."

"I can't believe you brought someone," Isobelle hissed as Paige shook Clint's hand. "Where do you think we're going to keep him? Everyone in the family's coming."

"Oh hush," his mum said, lowering herself back into her chair. "If Phil wants to bring a friend home he can. We'll cope. They can stay here. Goodness knows I can't sleep in this damn house right now."

"Thanks, Mom," Phil said, shooting Isobelle a triumphant look. It was a little strange how quickly he fell back into old patterns. Is it alright if I show Clint to the guest room? He's been driving all night."

"Of course," Auntie Ellen said before Isobelle could protest. "You get him settled and then we can talk arrangements. Your dad, bless his soul, left us a written record of his last wishes. Paige found it in his desk this morning."

"Good," Phil said. That did make everything easier if only because the family wouldn’t argue among themselves about it. Auntie Claire hadn’t left anything and the arguments had been the stuff of legends.

"Clint," he said, nodding towards the door. Clint nodded and followed him back out into the hallway. As soon as the door shut behind them the room erupted into chatter, the volume if not the words clearly audible through the thin plywood. He sighed. At least he was distracting them from their sadness.

"Your family are kind of overwhelming, sir," Clint grumbled, grabbing his bag. Phil laughed, lifting his own bag. He'd store it in the guest room for now.

"Just think, that's only five of them. Wait until they descend properly later. You sure you don’t want to get out while you can?"

"No way, sir. I can't wait to meet them," Clint said with a tired sigh.

"Don't worry," Phil said, leading the way up the stairs. "They're mostly harmless."

***

To the extent that Clint had ever thought about Phil's family home, and he couldn’t say he'd devoted a lot of thought to the topic, he'd kind of thought it might be a place like Phil's actual home. He'd only visited Phil's flat twice but it was a pretty nice place. Definitely modern. Maybe a little cluttered to be true to the aesthetic it was built for but kind of charming with it. It was full of things, but all things that were interesting or important. The second time he'd been there, the time after they'd found out Phil wasn't as dead as all that, Phil had shown him some of the things. Talked about why they were important to him. A weird kind of apology for the months he’d grieved and hadn’t needed to.

His family home was different. It was cluttered and the clutter didn't seem be there for a reason. Everything was patterned and dated. The bedspread had a weird floral pattern. The wallpaper had brown diamonds and the ceiling was artex. The carpet was a mottled orange. The furniture was mismatched and all the surfaces were crowded with the weirdest assortment of knick knacks, even here in the guest bedroom.

Then again, Phil's family wasn't exactly what he'd expected either. More like what he thought his family might be like if they were still alive and somehow not drunk than any kind of family he'd imagined for Phil.

He took his time in the guest room, though he couldn't really sleep with so much movement in the house. He was the master of dozing though so he let himself doze for a couple of hours. Thinking things over. He knew he probably shouldn't have insisted on staying but, well, there was no way in hell he was leaving Phil alone right now. Not to deal with this. Not after all the other shit he'd been dealing with.

It wasn't that he didn't think Phil could handle it. It was that he thought Phil shouldn't have to handle it. He shouldn't have had to handle a lot of things alone. Life sucked like that.

Clint couldn't go back in time and beat Fury into letting him be there when Phil came back. He could make sure he was here for Phil now. And if that meant sitting through a family funeral then so be it.

After a few hours and a few door slams which probably meant a few more noisy relatives added to the mix he dragged himself back out of bed and got changed. He'd been expecting to head straight back to Avengers Tower from the op so he didn't exactly have anything. If Phil was expecting him to go to the funeral (or, well, gave the slightest hint that he wouldn't be against the idea of Clint at the funeral) Clint was going to need to borrow a shirt at least.

He wandered back downstairs to find the house even more crowded. There was a lot of shouting and banging from the kitchen so he headed that way but when he stepped in the flurry of activity seemed to pause. It was early afternoon now and the crowd seemed to have grown. There was another older woman, about the age of Phil's mom, and some other men and women. He didn't recognise any of the current cohorts except the pale, kind of angry looking one and he couldn't remember her name.

Fortunately, before he got desperate enough to ask her he was saved. A woman he definitely hadn't met yet stepped up to him and slid her arm through his.

"I'm Claire," she said, smiling in a weirdly predatory way. "You must be Phil's friend."

"Yeah," Clint said, resisting the urge to shake her of. "I'm Clint. Is Phil around?"

"He's in Uncle Ben's office," the angry women snapped "making arrangements for the funeral like he should be so don't go disturbing him."

"Oh," Clint said, glancing back at the door. He had no idea where the office was but he was willing to make a search. "I don't know. Maybe I should go help him."

"Don't worry," Claire drawled, leaning on him. "We can take care of you. You need to let me introduce you anyway. Paige was saying you drove all night to get Phil home. That's so sweet of you."

"It wasn't a big deal," Clint said with a shrug. He exaggerated the gesture in the hope it'd throw Claire of but she clung on, fingers digging into his biceps.

"How do you know Phil?" a slightly balding guy in a suit who was sat at the nicotine stained Formica table asked.

"For god’s sake, Tom, introduce yourself first," the angry lady, Isobelle he remembered in a fit of inspiration, scalded from where she was making something by the stove. "Tom's Paige's husband. Ellen's son. He's a twin; I think growing up Phil thought you guys were triplets."

"Think so," Tom said with a lazy grin. "Though as time grew the gap got wider. He just couldn't live up. Me and my brother, John, we own a car dealership. Much better that whatever it is Phil does."

"Accounting," Isobelle supplied. "Or something. He doesn't really talk about it."

"Right," Tom agreed. "Something boring like that. I offered to give him a job doing books for us once but he turned us down." The expression on Tom's face made it clear what he thought of that. Clint smiled at the thought of Phil being in a situation where he was having to turn down a pity job from a cousin when, really, he was, well, Phil. He couldn't imagine Phil ever needing a pity job from anyone.

"How did you meet?" Claire asked. Pulling on his arm as if to remind him she was there.

"Work," Clint replied, figuring if he kept it short and sweet he'd not get in trouble.

"You work together?" Tom asked, eyebrow raised.

"We're partners," Clint said. It was at that point that Clint realised he maybe should have got some sleep as it took him a second to figure out why Tom's eyes had widened and Claire's fingers were suddenly digging into his arm again.

"You mean accounting partners?" Tom asked, but before Clint could agree Claire jumped in.

"Oh stop being so backwards, Tommy. Of course he doesn't. Accountants don't have partners and does Clint look like an accountant? No!"

"But..."

"Phil came out years ago. You need to learn to be alright with it."

"I'm fine with it," Tom protested. The other woman in the room, the one who looked about the same age as Phil's mom, shorted at that. "Seriously. If he wants to be queer I'm all for it."

"You should be," the older woman said. "Lots of it going around these days."

"Oh shut up, Mary," Tom growled. "Joy's still young. She doesn't know what she wants."

"If you took her to a good church she'd know better what she wanted," the older woman, Mary, said. She sat up straight for the first time and her expression was hell-fire. "You think it's harmless dabbling but it'll tarnish her soul, Thomas. You mark me."

"She's been unbearable since she remarried," Claire said. Her tone was long-suffering and Clint wondered when he'd managed to lose control of this conversation.

"You know, me and Phil aren't like that," he said, calmly, hoping to appeal to reason. Most of the room ignored him, lost in the new unfolding argument. Claire just squeezed his arm.

"Oh hun, don't worry. The family's always like this. Mary doesn't mean anything by it. Don't feel the need to hide who you are for us."

"We're not..."

"Maybe you should go talk to Phil," she said, pushing him gently towards the door. "Top of the stairs and 2nd door on the right. He won't mind if it's you."

Clint thought that was probably right but not for the reasons she thought. He excused himself before he could make more of a mess and slipped out. Brilliant. Phil was going to hate him. Or think he'd done it on purpose. He hadn't meant to. He wasn't enough of an asshole to use this situation like that.

However he felt, he'd never do that.

With a sigh he headed for the stairs. Better to tell Phil before things got too far out of hand. Phil would probably understand. He'd been cleaning up Clint's messes for years. For that period when he'd not had Phil to clear up after him he'd been an absolute mess. Natasha had been ready to strangle him.

He didn't bother knocking at the office door. He never did at S.H.I.E.L.D. Phil didn't seem to surprised to see him, just set aside his list (he'd made an itemised list, Clint kind of loved his efficiency) and leant back in his chair.

“So,” Clint started. “You know how I came to help you? I think I possibly just make it worse.”

“How could you make it worse?” Phil asked. “You murdered someone? Please tell me it was Isobelle.”

“Sorry,” Clint said with a wince. “I kind of used the word partner in the wrong context and it’s possible your family now think we’re dating. I tried to put them right but someone called Claire told me I didn’t have to hide from them. I swear I didn’t mean to.”

Phil sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose like he had a headache building. Clint wanted to reach out and touch but even without the fact they’d had the ‘relationships in the workplace are a bad idea’ talk three times he knew that was a bad plan because he was probably the source of the headache.

“Don’t worry,” Phil said finally. “You forget, I’ve known these people my entire life. I know how they get with things. Especially things about me. We’ll probably be married by the time we get downstairs.”

“That’s kind of scary. Is that where you get your efficiency from?”

Phil cracked a genuine smile at that. Possibly the first one Clint had seen since the phone call the night before so he marked it down as a small victory. He took his victories where he could get them with Phil these days.

“It’s possible,” Phil admitted. “Though I’d like to think not. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’d say we should go down and try to stop it but it’s too late. It was too late as soon as Claire heard it. She prefers her own version of reality to, well, reality. This might work out, anyway. At least I won’t get the awkward questions about when I’m going to find someone to date. And, well, it does explain why, exactly, you’re here.”

“Are you sure? Some of your family didn’t seem exactly alright with the gay thing.”

“You met Mary?” Phil asked. Clint nodded and Phil sighed. “My mother’s sister. She married a preacher and her views are a little...well...I don’t see her often so I wouldn’t say it influences me. Her oldest son, Doug, we used to be friends but he introduced her to the church and her new husband. You’ll probably meet him later. He’s the one who thinks he’s some kind of gift to the earth.”

“I think I met a few of them already,” Clint said with a sigh, leaning against the edge of the desk. Phil looked tired, though he’d slept in the car. It couldn’t have been very restful. He wanted to reach out and touch. To smooth away the creases of Phil’s suit. To kiss him. To remind them both of how very miraculously alive Phil was. But he knew he wasn’t allowed that.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked instead, running his fingers through the papers on the desk to give them something to do that wasn’t touching Phil.

“Not right now,” Phil said, picking up his itemised list again. “I’ve ordered a copy of his will and death certificate. I can get them tomorrow. I talked to the funeral parlour, I’m going to meet the funeral director tomorrow after I pick up the certificates. Those are the main things.”

“You have it in hand better than I would,” Clint says, like it isn’t obvious that’d be the case. “Want me to drive you tomorrow?”

“Please,” Phil replied. “You can sit in on the meeting, too. I mean, if you don’t mind. It won’t be too interesting.”

“You don’t need to entertain me, sir,” Clint snorted. “I’m a big boy and I came here to help you. Just point me where you need me and I’ll try not to create any more problems, at least.”

“You’ll do your best,” Phil agreed. “Though, for now, I think getting everyone out of the house is top priority. The kids’ll all be out of school soon and this place isn’t built for more than about five people. Mom probably isn’t up to hosting so many either.”

“She wouldn’t be,” Clint said. He couldn’t help thinking of the first few days without Phil, though he knew it wasn’t a fair comparison. He hadn’t been able to be around anyone but Natasha. He’d just been so angry, it felt like the anger had seeped into his bones and all he could do was hurt things. He’d bet Phil’s mom didn’t feel the same way but he got her need to be alone.

“Come on,” Phil said, standing and stretching. “Let’s go see if we can get some people out.”

“Sure,” Clint agreed. “Though don’t expect me to help much. They don’t seem to listen to me.”

***

Phil was surprised quite how easy it was to get everyone out of the house. Isobelle seemed happy enough to hand on to him and get out of the way, though she did have a large enough family of her own to take care of so maybe it wasn’t surprising. Mary was harder to shift, she’d come down ahead of her family and didn’t particularly have anywhere else to be but Claire, to Phil’s surprise, came to the rescue by suggesting she go with Isobelle to help her get back on track after the last few days. Paige and Thomas were happy to go home, dragging Joy with them, which just left Ellen and his mom. A much more manageable crowd.

“Well, thank heavens for that,” Aunt Ellen said, shutting the door on the last relative. “I mean, thank goodness for family but I can’t wait to see the backs of them either. Do they think we need everyone on hand all the time?”

“Oh quiet, Ellen,” Mom shouted from the sitting room. “They’re just trying to help is all. Not too good at it but they’re trying.”

“Very trying,” Ellen grumbled, shooting Phil a knowing look and heading off into the kitchen where Clint was busy trying to find storage space for all the food Isobelle had cooked for them. It’d probably take a month to eat it. He’d tried to insist she take it home but she’d refused. Said it was for them so they’d have one less stress. He did appreciate the gesture but he could have done with it being toned down just a little.

With a sigh he turned and pushed his way into the sitting room. He mother was sat there in her chair. There were two chairs in the room, both facing the old TV. There was also a neglected two-seater couch shoved over to the side of the room with a coffee table in front of it but the chairs took pride of place like thrones.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and laid it over the back of the empty chair. His dad’s chair. No wonder his mom couldn’t stay in the house.

“Are you going to stay with Aunt Ellen again tonight?”

“I think so,” his mom said, distractedly twirling the cigarette between her fingers. “It’s bridge night, my night out. I used to love getting out for the night.”

“You should go.”

“How am I meant to go, Phil?” she snapped, fingers tightening around the cigarette. “I know it’s what he’d want. It’s not that we didn’t talk about it. We all knew this was coming but how am I meant to do it? It’s so easy when you’re talking about it. But now…”

“I get it,” Phil said, sitting down. The horrible thing about his job was that he did, but in an abstract way. He’d dealt with so much death over the years, lost so many assets, he’d come to rationalise it. He accepted it and he shouldn’t. Knew how to go on. He’d do what he had to do, the world would keep turning and gradually things would be alright.

It helped him that he strongly suspected dad was in a better place. Not that his experience had made a religious man out of him but whatever had happened when he had been dead (and he had been dead, he’d come to terms with that now) hadn’t been painful, at least.

“Oh Phil, you don’t,” his mother sighed. “You’re still so young, really.”

“I’m fifty,” Phil protested. “Nobody could call me young.”

“You’ve not had a peer die of old age, though,” she said with a sigh. “When someone you know dies it’s a tragedy. Your boy, Clint. If he were hit by a car tomorrow it’d be unfair. You’d be allowed to scream and cry and rage at the heavens over the injustice. Imagine if he died, Phil, and everyone came by and told you it was for the best. That it was his time. Like he was over. A movie on the credits and nobody wanted him anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said, it was all he could think to say. She just nodded, distractedly lifting her cigarette and taking a drag. She’d stopped when he was young but fallen into the habit again when he left to join the army. He’d worried about it at the time. If the stress of him being away was making her smoke. If he was inadvertently killing his mother. Of course she wouldn’t let something like smoking kill her.

Though she was going to die some day. Probably not too long and he’d be here planning her funeral.

He slumped back in dad’s chair, letting the last few days catch up with him. There was a groove in the cushion. A testament of the age of the chairs and his dad’s declining health. He didn’t quite fit into it and for a second he felt like a little boy trying on dad’s clothes. Then mom reached out for him and he took her hand, gripping it tight. Together. Together they could do this.

“You know,” she said, softly. “I’m glad you brought Clint. You didn’t need to lie to us about what he is to you. Mary will always be herself but you shouldn’t hide.”

“Mom...” he started, wanting to mom at least to know the truth.

“He’s a good boy. Most people wouldn’t drive you across the country. Wouldn’t help you with all this. I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, I’m just glad you’re not living it alone.”

“I’m not,” Phil said, helpless. So much for the truth. Though it wasn’t entirely a lie. Clint was, well, he wasn’t what his mom thought but he was still the best friend Phil had. He was still someone Phil knew he’d have to actively work to dislodge from his life and he had no intention of doing that. Unless, of course, there was a tragedy. And either of them could have a tragedy at any time. Better not to think about it. 

He settled back into the chair, gripped his mom’s hand and listened to the sound of Clint and Auntie Ellen moving around in the kitchen.

***

“We’re going to have to throw some of this food out,” Clint said casually, stacking the plates in the cupboard. “Your mom’s gonna explode if she tries to eat it all. If we clear out a little before we leave then she doesn’t have to feel guilty about throwing it…”

“Maybe,” Phil said. The house was eerily quiet. He’d eventually persuaded his mom to go to bridge night. Auntie Ellen refusing to take no for an answer had helped. She’d be better there. They all understood. And then she was staying at Ellen’s again. She and Paul had a small flat in one of those retirement village things, it was nice. He should probably think about convincing his mom to move there.

Better than staying here, anyway. Staying in a house where everything reminded her of his dad.

“Do you think I should try and talk Mom into moving out?” he asked. He blinked a second after the words left his mouth, he hadn’t meant to ask Clint’s opinion. Not that he didn’t value it but, well, he didn’t want to give the wrong impression. That wasn’t fair to either of them.

Still, Clint leant back on the counter and thought, which was nice. Good to have someone give it serious consideration.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “Maybe mention it to her?”

“I don’t want to leave her here in this house,” he admitted, gesturing around. “This place, they bought it when they first got married. I grew up here.”

“I didn’t know that,” Clint said, moving to sit down across the table from him. “It’s kind of hard to imaging little you here.”

“There are photos in the living room,” Phil said, gesturing over his shoulders. “That’s kind of the problem. This entire place is so riddled with the past. I can’t look at a thing without remembering him. What’s it going to be like for my mom to live here?”

“I don’t know,” Clint said slowly, his voice oddly cautious. “But...when you died? I kind of realised I didn’t have anything of yours.”

“Clint…” Phil said, though he trailed off when he realised he didn’t know where this was going. He didn’t like talking to Clint about the time he hadn’t been alive, if only because of how strongly it had affected Clint. It was a little hard to cope with sometimes.

“I won’t talk about it long, I promise,” Clint said, his voice speeding up like he wanted this over as much as Phil did. “I just...I didn’t have anything and I got so paranoid that I was going to forget you somehow. I hated it. I printed your picture from your file since it’s the only damn picture I had of you and it was never enough. So, I mean, living here without it changing at all probably isn’t good but the opposite, not having anything, that’s kind of just as bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said, just for want of anything better to say. Clint shrugged, the gesture awkward in contrast to his usual grace. Phil could see what he meant. Honestly, if Clint had been the one to die, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t have gone to Clint’s locker and scraped together every scrap of Clint’s life he could to save. Professional or not. He couldn’t admit to it but, yeah.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

“Nobody does,” Clint reassured him. “It’s just…you just do what you can. I think the important thing is to listen to her. I’ve lost a hell of a lot of people in my life, Phil, and the thing I’ve learnt is there’s no one way to grieve. If she needs to keep everything the same that’s alright, if she needs to put everything in storage and start over that’s alright too. You’ve just got to let her pick her own path.”

“Wish it was that easy,” he said, looking around. “As you might have noticed, everyone in this family has an opinion of how things should be.”

“I had noticed,” Clint said, quirking a smile. “It’s...it’s honestly kind of nice. In a pushy way. Were they always this bad?”

“No,” Phil admitted. “Or maybe I was just too young to appreciate it but it’s only, well, Isobelle makes everything more stressful but that’s because she’s...Isobelle. You can’t blame her for it, she’d just trying to cope in her way.”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “I get that. Focusing on something else.”

“We were all close to my dad,” Phil said. “Growing up. Auntie Ellen used to live across the street. Lived there until about ten years ago, actually. And Mary used to live about five minutes walk away. Until she remarried. We grew up on top of each other. I told you I didn’t have any siblings but really I had a load of them. Me, Thomas and John. Mary’s oldest son Doug’s only a month older then the twins and then there was Isobelle and Claire, they’re about 10 years younger. We were always in and out of each other’s houses. Always together. In a lot of ways, for them, losing my dad is nearly as bad as losing their own.”

“Must be nice to have so many people.” Clint said, staring at his own hand on the table. “I grew up with just me and Barney. And my parents, of course. But no cousins. No uncles or aunts. Just us. I’d have killed for a pack of cousins.”

“It’s not as much fun as you’d think,” Phil said with a smile, letting the memories wash over him in a way he hadn’t in a long time. “Let me tell you about the time we skipped school to go fishing.”

***

It was late, everything was dark and Phil was tired. A kind of weary tiredness that went right down to the bone. He knew he had to get up tomorrow to go and take care of the arrangements. Still, he didn’t want to sleep. It had been oddly therapeutic telling his old stories to Clint. Getting a few of Clint’s in return.

“You know,” Clint said from where he was slumped across the table. “We need to sleep or tomorrow’s going to be hell,”

“Yeah,” Phil reluctantly agreed. “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed.”

“Well, that’s stupid.” Clint said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “First, you’re the one who needs all the help he can get energy-wise for dealing with this. I’m just following you around. Second, we’re going to share the bed like mature adults. Won’t be the first time.”

“That’s true,” Phil agreed, and that was fair. Normally it was under mission conditions but, well, the couch wasn’t exactly appealing. Still, first they’d somehow ended up in a fake relationship, now they were going to have to share a bed. If it wasn’t for all the death he’d think his life had turned into some kind of bad romcom.

“Come on, sir,” Clint said, standing up and yawning. “We need at least a few hours before everyone descends again.”

“I’m hoping to keep them away,” Phil said. “We’ll be out all morning then I might visit John and subtly suggest he and Lizzy have everyone over. They have the biggest house.”

“Sounds like a plan, sir,” Clint said with a yawn. Phil nodded, satisfied, and began the shuffle up the stairs. Clint followed closely after him and they managed to negotiate using the bathroom around each other and curl up beneath the sheets. Phil’s last thought was it was kind of unprofessional that they already had sides of the bed.

***

“I honestly didn’t know there was so much involved in planning a funeral,” Clint said, looking down at the brochures they’d been given by the funeral director. He’d lost a lot of people, yes, but he’d never had to organise this part. He’d been to funerals, sure, but nobody would exactly trust him to plan one. All the major decisions had been taken care of either by the letter they’d found in Phil’s dad’s desk or by Phil himself so he wasn’t exactly planning this one but there were a few things outstanding. Things like flowers and hymns.

Clint didn’t even know where to start with flowers. He’d looked through the fancy booklets and not been able to process it at all. There was no need for that much variety at all.

“It’s a pain,” Phil agreed. He was driving for now. He’d only have had to direct Clint anyway. Clint hadn’t argued too much, he hadn’t slept as much as he’d wanted to the night before. For all he said he was a mature adult there was something about having Phil asleep in the same bad as him that turned him into a teenager. He hadn’t been able to focus on much else.

“Have you done this before?” Clint asked before realising it probably wasn’t a good question. But Phil was shaking his head so it was probably safe.

“No, not this. When Auntie Carol died, that’s Isobelle and Claire’s mom, Isobelle planned everything. I kind of wish I’d stepped in and done it now. This is hard enough without children to take care of, too.”

“I can imagine,” Clint said with a wince. Well, he thought he could imagine. He didn’t exactly have much hands-on experience with children thankfully.

“I mean, at least I can go around town sorting things out,” Phil said, turning into a cul-de-sac. The houses here were much bigger and nicer than the one they’d slept in the night before. Much more like he imagined a place Phil would call home. “We still need to find a place for the wake.”

“I still can’t believe you do that,” Clint replied. “I mean, have a party after a funeral.”

“Long tradition,” Phil insisted with an evil smile. “Got to see dad off right. It gives everyone something to do, too. There’ll need to be food and drinks and decorations and it gives everyone a chance to remember the good times, not just to think about how he’s gone.”

“I think I’d like that when I die,” Clint said. “I mean, I know when I die it’ll probably be on an op so nobody will ever know but you could take some of the higher level agents out and have a drink for me.”

“I’d rather not think about it,” Phil said, his tone flat. Clint shrugged. He was used to thinking about his own death. It had been pretty much a matter of time since he joined S.H.I.E.L.D.. He did, of course, have a written will but he knew it likely wouldn’t be followed for security reasons.

“Alright,” Clit agreed, scanning the houses. Phil pulled to a stop outside one of them. Before they could even get out of the car the door to the house was opening and a tall Asian woman was stepping out, smiling down on them.

“Phil,” she said, waving to him. “Paige phoned last night. We’ve been expecting you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get around sooner,” Phil said with a genuine smile. Clint took care of locking the car as Phil walked up to the house and pulled the woman into a hug. It was good to see him interact with a member of his family he actually genuinely seemed happy to see.

“I won’t take it personally in the circumstances,” she said, stepping back. “And is this Clint?”

“You guys don’t waste time, do you?” Clint said with a sigh, stepping forward to shake her hand. “Clint Barton.”

“It’s good to meet you,” she said with a smile. “It seems like forever since Phil brought anyone home.”

“I know better, usually,” Phil said with a laugh. “Clint, this is Lizzy. For some reason she married my cousin John.”

“He’s one of the twins, right?” Clint asked. He kind of got the impression that he should have given up on keeping track by now but, well, he liked knowing things. It kind of came with the business.

“Yes. The more charming one, I assure you,” Lizzy said with a laugh. “Are you coming in?”

“Please,” Phil said, following her into the house. It was just as modern inside as it had looked outside. Clint couldn’t help but feel like he was better suited to the house they’d slept in last night. He was used to all this stuff now, he did share accommodation with Tony Stark these days, but if he spent too long around cigarette stains he did start to regress.

“Is John at work?”

“Yes. Apparently car sales wait for no man,” Lizzy said with a laugh. “You’d think he’d take a day off. He will for the funeral. Have you got a date?”

“Monday,” Phil said. “We wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible then everyone can go home since, well, they seem to have already descended. Which is, I’m afraid, why we’re here.”

“Oh, don’t tell me,” Lizzy laughed, leading them through to an open plan kitchen diner. It was whiter than a kitchen had any business being but was reassuringly populated with children’s drawings. “You want to use this place to get everyone together.”

“Please,” Phil said with the smile he used to try and charm his way out of things. “I’d let them come back to Mom’s but it’s so small. At least they could spread out a little here. We’re expecting Gideon with those kids and once we hit the weekend…”

“It’s going to be chaos,” Lizzy agreed. “So we’ll take them but I have a condition.”

“Of course you do,” Phil agreed, as though this was the accepted way of doing things between them. “Go on, name it.”

“Well, two conditions actually,” she said with a laugh. “We get to name the hours the house is open since, well, it’s our house, Phil. We don’t need everyone crawling over it all the time. Tomorrow we’re not having anyone through the day. In fact, you’re going to take Crystal for a few hours for us as she thinks you’re wonderful. All we heard for weeks after your last visit was ‘Uncle Phil did this’ and ‘Uncle Phil said that’.”

“I can definitely spare her a few hours,” Phil said with a smile. “She’ll be a good distraction.”

“Good,” Lizzy said. “And it’ll give John and I a chance to really get the house ready. Do you want to have the wake here?”

“We were going to get a room somewhere.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. You might as well have it here. We have the space and if the ladies are in the kitchen it’ll give them focus when they’re hanging about the house. Has Isobelle already started cooking?”

“She’s made enough to feed Mom for about a month,” Phil said, shaking his head ruefully. “It is great to see you, Lizzy.”

“You should come round more often,” Lizzy said with a nod. “Now, let me get you some coffee and then I can interrogate Clint.”

***

It was nearly midnight when they left John and Lizzy’s house. A cup of coffee had somehow spiralled to two had somehow ended with Phil calling the family and everyone flocking there to see each other.

If Clint thought he’d been overwhelmed before he didn’t know anything. He’d been dripping in children all evening and apparently there were still more to come. He’d not really spent time with children before but they all seemed to take to him which scared him a little.

He looked over to Phil who was driving again. He seemed more relaxed tonight. He’d spent a little time with his mother talking about flowers and shit, stuff Clint couldn’t help with but the funeral home needed to know. She’d left early though and, well, it was horrible but everyone seemed to relax. They seemed to forget for a while why they were there and just get on with enjoying each other’s company.

Even Isobelle wasn’t as overbearing after a couple of glasses of wine.

“You know, I think I like your family,” he said, sliding down in his seat.

“Oh, this was easy,” Phil said with a grin. “Tensions are going to rise later in the week, trust me. We’re overdue for a good family fight but it’s coming.”

“Seriously?” Clint asked, blinking. “You guys all seemed so laid back tonight.”

“We give that impression,” Phil agreed. “We’re really not, though. You’ll see. It’ll be tomorrow night. Or Sunday. Could be either but before the funeral there’ll be a fight. Tomorrow morning should be good though.”

“I never thought you’d end up playing babysitter,” Clint said with a smirk. “Though I guess given your current main assignment I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I don’t babysit my team,” Phil said with a little frown. Clint knew he hated hearing them criticised but he couldn’t help himself. Phil should be in charge of the Avengers. Alright, at first they didn’t know he was alive but now, he should be their handler. He should be Clint’s handler. Instead he was off babysitting a group of baby agents. “They’re more or less capable of taking care of themselves.”

“More or less,” Clint agreed, his tone letting Phil know what he thought of that.

“Can we not,” Phil said with a sigh. “This is all hard enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Clint said quickly, grimacing. “I...I’m just being an ass. Sorry. I forgot for a minute.”

“I wish I could,” Phil said with a sigh. “Maybe when all this is over. Though I’ll probably be expected to stay a few days after the funeral. Sort out the house, that kind of thing.”

“I can help with that,” Clint volunteered quickly. “I know I’ve been kind of a waste of space so far. I can definitely help with that, though.”

“Thanks,” Phil said. “Though you haven’t been a waste of space. It’s been, well, I don’t think any of this could ever be nice but it’s easier with you here, I think. You’re pretty good at running interference for me, anyway.”

“Years of practice,” Clint said with a laugh. “So, where are you taking Crystal tomorrow?”

“We,” Phil corrected. “Where are we taking her.”

“I thought you wanted some time with her?”

“In case it evaded your notice,” Phil said, blushing a little and damn if that wasn’t the most adorable thing Clint had ever seen, “I’m not exactly great with the kids. Babysitting jokes aside, Crystal is the exception when it comes to the younger generation. I’m not generally liked so this is new to me. I’d appreciate your help.”

“I’m not good with kids either but sure,” Clint said, tapping his fingers on the dash. “I mean, anything I can do really.”

“You’re good with kids,” Phil insisted. “I was watching you today. You were great with them.”

“Nah, they’re just easily amused,” he said with a grin. “And besides, this kid loves you. You must be doing something right. But I can come. We could take her to the park or something?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Phil agreed. They were pulling up to the house now. It looked smaller and sadder somehow. More worn down than it had before. More empty, at least. You could almost see the absence of Phil’s dad from the place. Clint tried to dissuade himself for a second then gave in, reaching over and putting his hand over Phil’s.

“Hey,” he said, squeezing. “Things are going to be alright.”

“I know,” Phil said, turning his hand in Clint’s grasp to squeeze back. “I just...I thought I was ready for this but it keeps hitting me again and again.”

“It’ll do that,” Clint agreed. He didn’t clarify, didn’t need to. They both knew where Clint’s main recent experience of losing a loved one came from. He’d spent ages thinking of Phil every minute of his day. Every little thing had reminded him of Phil but the worst part was that, after a while, he didn’t. After a while he didn’t see Steve and think ‘I wish Phil was here’ or make dinner and judge it on if Phil would like it and that’d been almost as bad. He’d felt like he was losing him all over again.

But then he’d come back and that’d brought a whole host of other problems.

They went into the house in silence. It seemed wrong to disturb the quiet so they crept around the place, checking everything was still secure like they left it before heading in silence to the bedroom. Phil paused at his parent’s door then, squaring his shoulders, pushed it open. Clint watched for a few seconds. He knew he should give Phil his space. He was a damn adult, he should have room to grieve but, well, he didn’t want him to hurt. And maybe he couldn’t really help but he could try.

Phil moved to sit on the end of the bed. It was perfectly made, no hint someone had died here. Clint was used to people dying bloody. Drifting away in their sleep was a new one to him.

“Come on,” he said, laying a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “I think we both need to sleep. Tomorrow, well, we’ll cope with it then.”

“I didn’t think it’d hurt this much,” Phil said, looking down at his hands. “I don’t...I think I forgot today. When everyone was together I think I forgot. A part of my brain thought I’d come home and find him here with my mom, watching TV.”

“I know,” Clint assured him. “I kind of get the idea he wouldn’t mind that, though. Being a happy thought at the back of your head. He seemed like a great guy.”

“He was,” Phil agreed. “Hell, he’d have probably thought you were awesome. You have, well, let’s call it a similar sense of humour.”

“Sounds like we’d have gotten along,” Clint agreed. “Come on, Phil. You’re going to need all the energy you can find tomorrow.”

“I know,” Phil agreed, standing slowly. “Maybe we should just get a hotel for the rest of the trip?”

“We can if you like,” Clint agreed, though he suspected Phil would have changed his mind in the morning. “Let’s just sleep for now.”

“Sure,” Phil said, and he finally let Clint lead him out of the room and to bed.

***

“You know,” Phil said, standing in Lizzy’s living room. “When I agreed to take Crystal today I didn’t think you were going to feed her sugar first.”

“Oh, this isn’t sugar,” Lizzy said with a grin. “This is just pure unadulterated joy.”

He’d arrived ten minutes ago and found Crystal running around shrieking. On seeing him she’d run over for a hug before sprinting up the stairs to find her bag. He didn’t know how much energy the average nine year old had but he was beginning to suspect she was exceptional.

“Any idea where we can take her?” he asked, looking up at the sudden thunder of footsteps as she apparently made a dash for something.

“She likes feeling like a grown up,” Lizzy advised. “Maybe take her to a cafe and buy her a drink? Let her tell you all about her school life? Take her to the mall? You’ll work something out.”

“I really don’t have a clue how to deal with kids,” he grumbled.

“But she loves you anyway,” Lizzy assured him. He managed a smile for her. He’d always liked Lizzy, she didn’t take much crap from anyone but she did it in a very diplomatic way which was a skill to be admired. She almost reminded him of Pepper. Or Pepper reminded him of her. Either way, she was definitely too good to be married to his cousin. He’d tried to tell her that but she never listened.

“Are you taking Clint with you?” she asked, leaning back to look out of the window next to the door. Clint was waiting in the car, a mutual decision as Phil had only expected to be in here for a minute. “You’ll be fine with him. He was great with the kids yesterday.”

“He was,” Phil agreed. “Though he doesn’t have much experience with them either.”

“Must be a natural,” she said with a laugh. “I like him. He bore up well to interrogation yesterday.” Phil was very aware of just how well Clint could hold up to interrogation but he doubted Lizzy needed to know that. Clint had been charming and bashful when she’d grilled him yesterday. Genuine, too. Maybe a little too genuine. 

“He’s good,” Phil agreed.

“I’d think you’d have better words for him then good,” Lizzy tutted. “I mean, he’s obviously mad for you. The way he looks at you, Phil. You’re lucky with that one.”

“I’ll remember that,” Phil said, uncomfortable. Of course people were going to see love in how Clint looked at him. He was very aware it was there. Apparently death made Clint bold. There was just no way it would work, though. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents didn’t get fairytale endings and there was no way a relationship between him and Clint could do anything but hurt Clint more.

Finally Crystal came back down the stairs, skirts spinning. She nearly crashed into Phil but he caught her at the last minute, steadying her.

“Hey, you ready to go now?”

“Yep,” she said cheerfully, clutching her bag to her chest. “Can we go bowling?”

“You don’t like bowling,” Lizzy reminded her gently. Crystal frowned at that, throwing her mother a dirty glare.

“I do too like bowling,” she declared. “Bowling’s really cool. Everyone in my class loves bowling. When it’s my birthday I want to have a bowling party.”

Lizzy blinked at her daughter for a second then turned to Phil with a bright smile.

“Good luck, see you in a few hours.”

“Thanks,” Phil said darkly. He could do bowling, at least. Though he suspected Clint would wipe the floor with both of them. Crystal giggled, grabbing his arm, and he lead her out to the car.

“Is Clint coming?” she asked, her eyes lighting up when she saw him.

“Yep,” Phil said, pulling the back door and holding it for her. She slid him holding her head high like some kind of princess and he couldn’t help but grin. He closed the door and slid into the front passenger seat as Clint said hi to her and Crystal bubbled back at him.

“We’re going bowling,” Crystal declared once they were settled. “Right, Uncle Phil.”

“It’s what the lady wants,” Phil said with a smile. Clint laughed, hands flexing on the wheel. There was something beautiful and infectious about Clint’s laugh that Phil tried not to think about too much.

“Well, we can’t disappoint her. Where’s the nearest bowling alley?”

“I’ll direct you,” Phil assured him and then they were pulling off. It didn’t take long for Crystal to fill the car with chatter. It was almost soothing in a way. She seemed to have a million things to say about school and her friends and Phil just nodded politely and hummed like he did when FitzSimmons were excited about something. It was possible he did treat his team a little too much like a babysitting project.

Clint chatted with Crystal a little, encouraging her, and she responded enthusiastically. It was kind of cute. Clint was obviously trying, which was more than a lot of people would do. Of course, he couldn’t think of anyone else in the job that’d be here with him for this. Well, maybe his team but they’d definitely do more harm than good. Clint...he was doing okay.

The bowling alley was where he remembered it, though it had been made over and seemed to be crawling with children which was probably why Crystal wanted to be here. They entered the building with her between them, her hands on each of their arms like she was a princess being escorted to the ball.

“You know,” Clint said as they stepped through the door. “Back when I...when we first started working together? There was a bowling league.”

“I knew that,” Phil confirmed. He’d never paid much attention to it. He had other things to do but it never hurt to be aware of what was happening.

“Then I think it’s only fair to warn you I was the star of the team.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you were,” Phil said with a grin. “I’ll be a little worried if you weren’t good at this.”

“Why should Clint be good at this?” Crystal asked, gripping his arm. “I didn’t know he works with you.”

“Yep,” Clint said with a grin. “I’m an accountant too. Phil just means I like sport a lot so I’m good at a lot of them.”

“Alright,” Crystal said, pulling them towards the desk. “Then you need to teach me. Abigail is having a bowling party for her birthday and I need to be good. Alex’s going to be there.”

“Who’s Alex?” Phil asked, suspicious.

“Jeez, Uncle Phil,” Crystal sighed. “Weren’t you even listening?”

“Alex is the coolest boy in the entire class,” Clint supplied, so clearly he’d actually been listening in the car. “And he thinks bowling is cool.”

“That explains a lot,” Phil admitted, looking down at Crystal. “Alright, we’ll see what we can do.”

“I knew you’d help,” Crystal enthused. “I told everyone at school I was really good so you’ve got to make sure I’m really, really good by the time we leave.”

“Lying to people isn’t a great thing,” Phil protested, but clearly Crystal wasn’t listening. “You keep lying and one day there aren’t going to be people around to fish you out.”

“Nah, Mom and Dad will always help,” she said with a shrug, the innocence of the statement unexpectedly painful in the light of why he was here. “Only Mom’s kind of bad at bowling too and dad’s always at work. And you’re so much cooler anyway and Clint knows everything about bowling.”

“I didn’t say I know everything,” Clint hedged but Crystal was already pulling them forward again. Phil went easily this time, reassured at least about what she was going to get out of this. About what he was expected to give. He could teach a little girl to bowl. Well, within reasons. Though he doubted the rest of her class were all that good.

They paid and changed shoes as Crystal chattered on about school and life and family. The bowling alley seemed smaller and a million times less impressive than it had seemed when he was a kid but he knew that was just life. Everything had seemed smaller here since the first time he’d left. He remembered coming back when he was on leave in the army and having trouble reconciling the world he knew to be out there with the small, quiet lives everyone lived back home.

He’d talked to his dad about it late at night. His dad had been in the army during the war, had once even fought with Captain America (something Phil had never mentioned to Steve, it would seem too strange). He’d told Phil that it was always going to be a struggle, but there would always be a place for him and if he needed to step out and think, they’d all understand. He’d taught him that there were no easy answers, especially not when the question is really ‘who am I’, but that if you let them your family will support you.

Well, to an extent. They mostly tried anyway and it was the intention that counted. 

He trailed Clint and Crystal down to the alley. Clint gave him an odd look but, when he saw Phil looking back, just smiled and carried on. Phil understood, then. Clint was taking care of him right now, like he’d said he would. Alright, maybe running interference with his nine year old niece wasn’t the kind of help either of them had thought he’d need but Clint was still doing it.

He pushed down the feelings that came up at that. Unprofessional. Clint was still under his command, even if it wasn’t directly. They worked together in the field, he couldn’t allow himself to be compromised.

He’d shut himself of from any possibility of a relationship years earlier, he knew that. He had casual things. Friends who he slept with until they left or wanted more or got bored. Anything else was too much of a risk and Clint would never be satisfied with only part of Phil. He’d never be satisfied until he had everything. It was kinder to both of them in the long run if he had nothing.

He forced himself to step forward and join in again, though he didn’t want to. They managed to set up the lane and Clint proved he really was the better of them at bowling which didn’t surprise anyone and, after a few minutes, Phil allowed himself to sink into the background again. He sat and watched as Clint corrected Crystal’s position and helped her out. It was sweet, he didn’t get to see Clint like this often. He tended to bounce between sarcastic and mission focused. For a while after everything had come out in a horrible mess all he’d gotten from him was defensive. This was definitely better.

Finally they finished the game, Crystal throwing herself on him for a hug, squealing about how much better she was now and how everyone would be so impressed by her at the party. He smiled for her then smiled for Clint and he felt better than he had since he got the news, almost like things might be alright again soon.

“Now we need fast food,” Crystal declared, standing up quickly.

“I know for a fact your mom doesn’t let you eat that,” Phil said, stretching.

“That’s why you need to take me,” she said, confidence pouring of her. “I know all about family who don’t visit often coming to visit. You’ve got to feel guilty that you don’t see me enough so you take me to do things nobody else will. Besides, I’ve got to have the full bowling experience.”

“She has a point,” Clint said with a laugh. “Besides, a little fast food won’t hurt her.”

And that was how he ended up sat in a booth in McDonalds. He’d eaten here in missions before, often enough to know what he wanted without thinking, but never out of choice. It was the kind of food that was tolerable after hours on an op when he was freezing and his stomach was empty but never in any other situation.

Crystal seemed to be loving it, though. He suspected that she’d be bouncing off the walls all afternoon. It was, at least, better than her being depressed. He could cope with hyperactive, he just didn’t want to see sadness in her eyes. She’d probably never been close enough to his dad to mourn him properly. He’d already been 80 and in declining health when she was born and it wasn’t like there aren’t enough younger members of the family to entertain her.

And that was sad all over again. Like his dad was already fading out of sight. Just what he needed.

“You know,” Crystal said, kicking his leg under the chair in a clear sign she knew he hadn’t been listening and wanted to be paid attention now. “Mom said you and Clint and boyfriends. Are you?”

“Yes,” he said, wincing a little at the lie. If he said no, though, he’d go back to the family and at this point even if they did believe him it’s only be more trouble than it was worth. And his mom seemed happy to see him with someone, maybe he’d better just give her that for now.

“Then you should hold hands,” she said authoritatively. “When I have a boyfriend I’m going to hold his hand all the time.”

“I think you’re a little too young for boyfriends,” he said with a grin. Crystal shook her head emphatically.

“No, I’m not. Kaitlyn has a boyfriend and she’s in my class. He’s a year older and he’s really cool. She says they even kiss sometimes.”

“Well, you’re definitely too young to be kissing,” Phil said with a frown. Crystal just stuck her tongue out at him, scrunching her face. He sighed. Really, he knew, there was nothing he could do to make her not kiss boys. It wasn’t even his place. She just...she was so tiny. He still remembered going to her christening straight after an op in Cuba. She wasn’t allowed to be grown up.

“Hey,” Clint said, nudging him. “Crystal seems a clever girl. I’m sure she knows she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

“Of course,” Crystal said with a dramatic sigh. “That’s obvious, Clint. But I want a boyfriend and I want to hold hands is all. Because that’s what you do. So you should hold hands.”

“Why do you care?” Phil asked with a sigh, but Clint was already reaching for his hand and at this stage it was easier to let him tangle their fingers together than to stop him. It was oddly comforting to have his hand held, though he was a middle aged man so he wasn’t sure it should be comforting.

Crystal beamed at them like all her Christmases had come early while stuffing her mouth full of fries. Phil signed and looked away, lifting his free hand to grab the thing that was passing for a burger from his plate. Family, what could you do?”

***

“We’re back,” Crystal shouted, bouncing in the front door. Phil was surprised to find the house still deserted though he’d been longer than he’d said he would be. He followed Crystal through to the sitting room to find his mother sat next to Lizzy on the couch.

“Finally,” Mom said, standing. “I thought you’d be here today, Phil.”

“We took Crystal out,” he said by way of an apology, stepping forward to hug his mom quickly. “Do you need something?”

“Yes, I do,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I’m done hiding at your Aunt Ellen’s. I woke up this morning and I said to myself, Jean, this isn’t what Ben would want for you. I’m not a fool. I know you’re a busy man and when the funeral’s over you’ll go again. So now, while you’re here and I’ve got the courage, I want to move some things around the house.”

“Are you sure?” Phil asked, looking her in the eye. “It’s not too soon?”

“It’ll always be too soon, Phil. But I can’t live in a museum to your father, he wouldn’t want that. We talked about him dying. He was very clear. I have to live and, well, I can’t do it in that house.”

“Alright,” he said, slipping an arm around her shoulder. “Do you want me to phone the others? It’ll go quicker with more of us.”

“No,” she said. “This is something we need to do. And I’m sure your young man will help.”

“I’m sure he will,” Phil agreed. “He’d been burning for something to do and he’s pretty handy for moving things.”

“He looks it,” he mom agreed, gathering her coat. “Come on. Now’s the time, before I lose my nerve again.”

Phil nodded and offered her his arm, leading her out to the car where Clint was waiting for them.

***

Phil had always known packing away someone’s life was a huge task but he hadn’t appreciated just now much until now. They’d stopped for some boxes on the way over but he’d already had to make a run for more. Not that they were packing up everything that had been his dad’s, obviously not. Just enough to make the place more like a place his mom could live. Which meant most of the things in the office.

“You know,” he said, dropping down to sit on the floor next to where his mom was sorting through a box. He was damn glad he’d brought jeans for this mission so he wasn’t having to do this in his suit. “I never knew just how much stuff dad accumulated.”

“Oh, he was a hoarder alright,” Mom said, smiling down into the box that seemed to contain mostly out of date electrical equipment. “I should probably throw more of this away but, well, it doesn’t seem right. You know if you want anything, Phil, just tell me. You should take something.”

“I will,” Phil agreed. “But most of it’s better here. I wouldn’t want to lose it.”

“You mean Mr Organised Accountant can’t keep track of things,” she said, putting on a gasp. He rolled his eyes at her and he laughed. “Oh relax, Phil. You don’t have to take it now. It’ll all be yours in the end, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Phil said with a sigh. He didn’t know what he’d do with it then. He had the apartment but he didn’t get there often enough to see the things he had. It felt wrong to put the things from his family there. There was the bus but there was too much risk of things being damaged or lost. And he did have a room at Stark Tower but he saw that less than his own place.

“I worry about you,” she sighed, pushing the box aside. “I know, I nag. I do worry though, baby. You were the smartest in your class and now...you should be doing something better with your life.”

“I like my job,” Phil insisted. It was an old argument and one he wasn’t keen to get into as it mostly consisted of him lying to his mother until she got distracted. “Do you want to keep any of these?”

“I suppose they’re useless?” she said, poking at the box again. Phil was pretty sure nothing in it had been technologically relevant for the past twenty years so he nodded.

“So much stuff. You don’t realise how much you leave behind,” she said, running her finger over the desk. “Though it’s good. It means a life well lived, full of love. Do you and Clint live together?”

“No,” he said. Best to keep the lie to a minimum.

“That’s a shame,” she said. “I hate thinking of you living alone. I wish, sometimes, we’d been able to have another child. Your siblings, they always have to be there for you. They might not like you and you might not like them but they’re family. Whatever happens, they have an obligation to stand by you.”

“I’m happy,” Phil assured her. “I’m not lonely. I have lots of friends. I have Clint. I don’t need anything else.”

“You’ve always thought you didn’t need anyone,” she said. “You and your father were the same that way. He told me he didn’t need anyone. When he came back from the army, he used to push me away. He used to go out walking for hours and hours. We were only courting then, I nearly called off the engagement. Ellen wanted me to, I remember. There was another boy who was sweet on me who hadn’t been at war but I loved your father, you see. I tried to move on, he tried to push me away but nothing worked. So, in the end, I told him he’d have to marry me or I’d grow old and die alone. That did the trick.”

“You never told me that,” Phil said, leaning back on the desk. “Dad always said he asked you to marry him when he realised you would stick with him even when times were bad.”

“Oh he did the actual proposing, of course,” Mom said with a laugh. “I just pushed him in the right direction. You’re stubborn in the same way. So caught up in doing things yourself, you never think to ask the people around to you help. I’ve been so worried you’d end up alone, I wouldn’t want that for you. Everyone deserves people around them. Especially you. You work so hard.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted again. He knew his mom wouldn’t believe him but he was. He was fine.

“You shouldn’t settle for fine,” he said. “You should grab what makes you happiest.”

“What I’m taking away from this conversation…” they both jumped, spinning to look at the door where Clint was still watching them with a grin on his face. “Is that if I want to get married I have to insist on it even if Phil thinks it isn’t the right time because otherwise it’ll never happen.”

His mother gave a small, startled laugh then nodded approvingly.

“Yes, that exactly. He’ll never do what he wants for himself. He’ll try and do everything for everyone else so if you ever want this boy to marry you, well, you need to get on with it and tell him to.”

“I didn’t think you’d approve of Clint,” Phil said, sending Clint a quick glare. He had that gleam in his eye that meant he was taking this advice to heart. “I mean, I know you wanted grandchildren.”

“Oh Phil, I gave up on that years ago. I think you should now too, you’re not getting any younger after all. I mean, if you wanted to we’d be delighted. When Doug married Naomi last year I thought, well, there’s the age gap but he’s your age and he’s married to a beautiful young lady and there’s a baby now but that was never your style, Phil. Not to imply that Doug doesn’t love Naomi but you’d never date a person you didn’t feel was your equal.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “I don’t want kids, either. I just thought you wanted them for me.”

“No, I just want you to be happy,” she said with a smile. “And you seem to be working on that quite nicely. I mean, Clint’s a catch, right? You just need to keep him.”

“Don’t worry,” Clint said, dropping to sit on the floor next to Phil and letting his hand rest on Phil’s thigh. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***

“You know,” Phil’s mom said, taking a sweater out of the closet. “It’s ridiculous that I’m boxing all these up to keep. I should give them to charity or something.”

“They’d definitely appreciate them,” he said, looking at the thing. It wasn’t what anyone would call stylish but it looked warm. He’d have killed to own something like that at one point in his life. Though he knew those times were a long way from anything most people experienced. “But if you need to hang on to them you can. It’s hard to let go.”

“It is,” she said with a sigh. “Have you lost someone, Clint? I don’t mean to pry but sometimes you say things…”

Clint couldn’t help a small, dry laugh escaping. The person he’d lost was, of course, Phil. His family had never been told. At the time he’d thought it was cruel but necessary for some reason he didn’t have clearance for. He’d had a lot more trust in the system back then. Now he knew it was Fury making sure Phil had a life to come back to when they brought him back.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing the thought away. He had to explain himself now. “I’ve lost both my parents. A long time ago, but...it makes you think.”

“That’s terrible,” Phil’s mom said, stepping forward to put an arm around his shoulders. “Do you have any siblings? Cousins?” 

“I have an older brother,” he assured her. He didn’t mention that he hadn’t seen Barney in forever. People tended to think that was odd and he didn’t want to explain why exactly he didn’t spend much time with his brother. The truth about his past always seemed to put a dampener on conversation.

“I wish Phil had a brother, or a sister,” she said with a sigh. “I suppose that growing up we thought it never really mattered, he always had someone. It would have been nice, though. At least he has you now. You take good care of him, right?”

“As much as he’ll let me,” Clint confirmed. And it was the truth. The problem was that Phil didn’t take kindly to being taken care of.

“So not much then,” she said with a knowing grin. “Push him. He needs it. He deserves to be happy, don’t you think.”

“That’s kind of what I want most in the world,” Clint admitted. “He works so hard and he always does what he thinks is best instead of what he wants to do. Sometimes I just want to shake him and shout at him to be selfish for a while.”

“You should follow through on that,” his mom said with a laugh. “I used to have to do it to his father sometimes.”

Clint didn’t know what to say to that without admitting she shouldn’t really be thinking it was Clint’s place to do anything to Phil. He liked Phil’s mom a lot, and she seemed to like him enough too. He wanted to tell her it gets better. It did get better but in the way it went from a continual weight pushing you down so you couldn't breathe to a constant ache in the chest. He guessed she probably knew that and it wasn’t much comfort anyway.

“I think I will send them to the charity shop,” she said finally, putting the sweater down on the bed. “Someone will use them and keeping them won’t bring him back to me. Maybe I’ll just keep one, to remember. But the rest can go.”

“That’s pretty brave.”

“The Coulsons are known for their bravery,” she said with a sad smile. “I’d have thought you’d have learnt that by now.”

“I know Phil’s brave, I just thought it was a Phil trait. Not a Coulson trait.”

“No. All terribly brave. Just wait until you meet Ben’s brother tomorrow. He’s a handful. All terribly brave except when it comes to emotions.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Clint said. He hated the hope that was building in his chest as he was here. The kind of feeling that if he tried, maybe he could get Phil to reconsider on the entire no dating thing. This weird idea that everything treating them like a couple would make it true.

“Alright,” Phil’s mom said, standing back. “Let’s get this stuff boxed for the charity shop, then. And then I think we’re almost done.”

***

Phil didn’t like it. He didn’t like how empty the house felt now they were done packing. He’d thought it’d feel better but he was finding, in practice, that it didn’t feel better at all. It felt like they’d painted over dad and it was too soon to do that. He hadn’t been ready.

But his mom had been ready and that was the important thing. This was all for her, after all. She seemed pleased, had even declared she’d sleep there that night and Phil had tried not to feel disappointed that he wouldn’t get to stay here alone with Clint again. He shouldn’t be disappointed. He got plenty of time with Clint and if he didn’t get the kind of time he wanted that was all his fault. He’d insisted on professionalism.

And he was right. They should be professional .Work came first. The things they did were too important to push aside for feelings.

The problem was, right now, work seemed a million miles away. He’d been checking his e-mail and doing what he could but the fact was he wasn’t at work right now and Clint was here entertaining his niece and chatting with his mother and moving boxes and sitting with him at the funeral home and generally making things so much more bearable than they would have been otherwise.

He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do with this.

They’d eaten more of the food Isobelle had cooked (she’d threatened to come around and make more, Phil had politely declined) and watched some bad TV in the rearranged living room (Clint sat next to him on the sofa, their thighs pressed together. After a while Clint had put his head on Phil’s shoulder and Phil knew it wasn’t helping anything but his mother had looked at them with such a fond expression he’d let Clint leave it there). They’d played a round of cards (Clint had won. Clint was a secret genius at cards and Phil should have known better than to play against him). Now his mom had taken herself up to bed, hugging them both goodnight and telling them not to be too loud.

Which left them sat together on the couch, pressed against each other. Phil knew he should stand up and go to sit somewhere else but frankly he didn’t see why he should have to move. Or why Clint should move. It was becoming a problem.

“I like your mom,” Clint said after a second, leaning a little more into Phil’s side. “She’s an awesome lady. Got to be to come back and take on this mess so soon. I’d never be able to do that.”

“She’s known it was coming for a long time,” Phil said, shifting them so he could wrap an arm around Clint’s shoulder. He knew Clint was thinking about when Phil had died again and he hated talking to Clint about this but it was somehow easier when Clint was slumped against his side and not looking at him. Maybe because they could both feel how alive he was.

“Yeah, still,” he said with a sigh. “Even if I’d expected it I don’t think I could joke about it like she does.”

“She is pretty brave,” Phil agreed. It was easier than arguing right now. “Though she does have some...interesting ideas. Don’t listen to her too much.”

“Do you mean the bit where she showed me your baby photos or the bit where she said I should bully you into marrying me?”

“Both,” Phil said, though he’d been thinking of the second. Since he knew Clint had overheard he’d been running it over and over in his head. If he was in Clint’s position he couldn’t honestly say he wouldn’t hear that and think, alright, I just need to push. He couldn’t deal with that, not right now. He’d made the decision to keep Clint away for sound logical reasons, he had enough to deal with right now.

“Do you seriously think I’d hit on you at your dad’s funeral?” Clint asked with a laugh. “Is that what you think of me?”

“No,” Phil said, but he was aware his own tone sounded unsure and Clint was already pulling away which mean he’d fucked this up again. A secondary reason he’d said no to Clint, he was terrible at this. He couldn’t even keep sex partners around for long, any attempt at a real relationship was doomed to fail.

“Thanks, Phil,” Clint said, frowning. “Look…I’m not an idiot, alright? You know I don’t like what you decided but it was your decision. You’re pretty much the smartest guy I know so, well, maybe I thought about it for a few minutes but I’m not going to try to push you. Not when I came here to make it easier for you. Hell, I’m not going to push it ever. I don’t want someone who’s only with me because I bullied them into it.”

“I’d never be with someone just for that,” Phil defended, though he wasn’t sure what he was defending against. “I...you know we can’t.”

“You’ve told me we can’t,” Clint agreed. “And I respect you so I’ve got to respect that.”

“Yes,” Phil said, though it was unsatisfying somehow. “But what I’m saying makes sense.”

“I don’t want to talk about it now,” Clint said, flopping back against the arm of the sofa. Away from Phil. Phil wished he didn’t miss this so damn much already. Wished he wasn’t so ridiculous. “I promise I’m not going to push you, if that’s what you’re worried about. As far as I’m concerned I made my play and you said no and now it’s my job to live with that.”

Phil couldn’t think of anything to say to that so he just nodded. It was good to know that Clint hadn’t taken what his mother said as a kind of challenge, he just wished he hadn’t ruined everything in the process of finding that out.

“Look,” Clint said, standing quickly. Phil wanted to reach out and pull him back down, apologise for this entire mess but there were a million reasons he shouldn’t do that. “I’m going to go to bed. I’m sorry, it’ll be better in the morning.”

“Alright,” Phil agreed. He let Clint walk away.

He listened as Clint walked up the stairs. Listened as he walked around, got ready for bed, got in. He sat there listening, as though he’d be able to tell through the floorboards when Clint would be asleep and it would be safe to follow him. That was ridiculous, of course. In the end he got up and made himself useful. He cleaned the kitchen, did all the washing up. He rearranged a few things in the living room, hid the photo album again. He couldn’t stop thinking, though. Clint had...the last few days he’d been doing one hell of a lot. More, maybe, then Phil had explicitly given him credit for and Phil had thanked him by ruining the thing they’d both been enjoying. The close friends thing.

He knew it wasn’t really a friends thing but it wasn’t really a relationship thing either. He knew Clint was close to people like that. He knew he sometimes slept with or cuddled with Nat. It didn’t have to be an issue. If they could get that kind of friendship maybe it would be enough. Or if not in itself enough to fill the hole in him then at least enough to obscure it a little.

“Shit,” he said to himself, dropping the pile of magazines he’d been trying to find a new home for on the coffee table. He was a Coulson and he was brave. He wasn’t going to hide from Clint down here.

In the bedroom Clint was facing away from him but obviously not sleeping. Phil considered his options for a few seconds and then went to change for bed. He felt, in a weird way, that it put them on equal footing.

He went back into the room and slid into the bed. It was warm, welcoming. The last few nights...he’d never got on well sleeping with someone in the bed with him but Clint had always been the exception. Even when they really were just asset and handler, it was like his body had accepted him as an integral part of his life before his mind caught up.

He looked across the covers to Clint’s back. It was held tight in a way Phil had seen a hundred times. It made him think of missions and shooting and the reasons that was a bad idea. Tension like that didn’t belong here, he had to fix it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“You haven’t,” Clint replied instantly. “I...I’m just being ridiculous.”

“You’re not,” Phil assured him, reaching to tentatively run a hand over Clint’s shoulders. The other man didn’t flinch but he didn’t relax so it wasn’t a victory exactly. “I shouldn’t have even brought it up. I do trust you, more than anyone. And I appreciate everything that you’re doing here. You don’t need to be here. I probably haven’t even given you any reason to be here recently. But you are here and, well, I’ve just messed it all up. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t mess it up,” Clint insists, rolling over. “I’m just kind of confused, Phil. You’re telling me you don’t want me but you want to cuddle? We can do that but I need to know.”

“Basically, yes,” Phil agreed. “I...I know we can’t have it exactly but I want something like you have with Nat. I can’t be with you but I’d like to be close to you.”

“I can do that,” Clint agreed, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. He shifted again, slowly moving to lay his head on Phil’s chest. Phil let his arm curl around Clint’s shoulder and, damnit, his arm felt so much better there than it had lying on the sheet.

“This alright?” Clint asked, uncertainly. Phil squeezed him tight.

“This is perfect.”

***

Clint woke up to the sound of Phil and his mom moving around downstairs. He took a moment just to hide under the covers, enjoying the remnants of his and Phil’s shared warmth. He was screwed. He was so screwed. Phil wanted to have a thing with him like the thing he had with Nat. That was great but the thing with Nat worked entirely on the basis that they didn’t want to fuck each other at all. She didn’t do sex with people she knew and he was so hung up on Phil he wouldn’t say yes to anyone else so had no interest in her and they all knew that.

So, he was somehow meant to have a platonic romantic relationship with a man he was desperately in love with. A man whose death had torn him apart, hurt him in ways he’d been sure he was too broken to feel until it happened .

He wasn’t sure how in the hell he was going to achieve that but Phil needed it so they’d do it. Somehow.

He dragged himself out of bed and changed clothes. Phil had done a load of laundry at some point and he had clean things, which was good as he didn’t exactly pack for this trip. They were both renting suits for the actual ceremony. He should have thought to wash his own stuff but, well, he sucked at things like that. And Phil seemed to think he was helping anyway, even if he didn’t feel that way.

He sloped downstairs to find Phil and his mom already looking ready to go out, munching on toast. Phil’s mom beamed when he came in though Phil looked a little more conflicted.

“There you are,” she said, standing and heading for the cupboard. “I thought you’d never get up. Today’s a busy day.”

“I thought tomorrow was the busy day,” he said, stepping over to lean against Phil. The gesture seemed to erase some of the worry from Phil’s face and he raised an arm to sling around Clint’s back, pulling him closer. Clint could so do this.

“There’s all the prep work to do today,” Phil explained. “Isobelle’s going to be insane, there’s all the stuff to make for the gathering tomorrow. And everyone’ll be together. You’ve not even met some of the family yet.”

“I’m finding that hard to believe,” Clint grumbled, accepting the cup Phil’s mother passed him. “I think I’ve met every person in the world since I got here so you can’t possibly have more family members.”

“There are always more family members,” Phil’s mom said, sitting down and lighting up. Clint tried not to show any distaste at the cigarette smoke but pulled away from Phil, dropping into a chair at the other side of him. It wasn’t like he was guilt free when it came to smoking but that’s exactly why he hated the smell. It used to be his go-to form of self harm. Not a good plan in the long run.

“I’m never going to remember their names,” Clint warned, grabbing half a slice of toast from Phil’s plate. Phil didn’t stop him so he refused to feel bad about it.

“Don’t worry, Clint,” Phil’s mother said, a quiet smile on her face. “You’ll get them all next time. I hear we’re much less daunting on the second visit.”

“Maybe,” Clint agreed, trying not to think how there wasn’t going to be a second visit.

***

Phil had known the day was going to be chaos but, well, nothing could prepare him for the full force of his family in an enclosed space. The last time they’d all been in one place it’d been the summer and they’d been able to spread outside but with them all stuck inside, it was madness.

He knew, intellectually, that his family wanting to be together in the days before and after a funeral to provide support and care was a good thing. The actual implementation of it was, well, it wasn’t great. Lizzy already looked ready to punch someone when they arrived a little after ten. He ventured into the kitchen to find the entire place a shambles with Isobelle at the head of it.

“How early did you even get here?” he asked, incredulously. She just shot him a dark look and he extracted himself pretty quickly.

Lizzy’s house was, mainly, open plan. That was great but it meant everyone was tripping over each other all the time. Isobelle had brought all her children which didn’t sound too bad until you realised she had six of them. Her husband seemed conspicuous in his absence but that wasn’t unusual for Ted. He had a sprawling mess of a family himself so he tended to stay away from their family functions. Claire was there smoking as she always did by the patio doors. John was there, obviously, and Lizzy and Crystal. Thomas was there already too, locked in conversation with his twin brother, Paige reluctantly trying to wrangle all the other children as Joy, her own child, ignored her and lurked by Claire. Presumably trying to steal a cigarette or absorb some of Claire’s adult bad mood.

It was all pretty overwhelming and Phil found himself first checking on his mom, currently staking out the best seat which she probably wouldn’t move from for the rest of the day, and Clint. Clint was hovering by her elbow helping her get settled. He’d kept up a steady stream of chatter through breakfast and the ride over about Phil and the neighbourhood and Phil wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to ever be able to repay him for this.

He slipped back out of the living room to find Lizzy in the hall with Joe, Isobelle’s oldest.

“No,” he caught, the anger in her voice making it very clear that Lizzy was already past her limit. “You are not going to bring alcohol into my house and drink it.”

“Chill out, Auntie Lizzy. I’m twenty!”

“You’re still too young to legally drink and this isn’t a nice, happy occasion. We lost someone.”

“We all die eventually.”

“And we all hope it’ll be a long time away,” Phil interrupted, “But I wouldn’t push your aunt or it might be sooner than you think.”

“That’s not fair,” Joe whined, slouching. Phil had been worried for a while that all Isobelle’s children would be slouchers but the rest were actually quite personable for teenagers. Joe and Joy seemed to be using up all the slouching allocation for their generation between them.

“Life isn’t fair, kid,” Lizzy snapped. “Get into the living room and look after your siblings.”

Joe looked around like he expected someone to materialise from the walls and save him but nobody did so with a reluctant sigh he turned and headed back into the room. Phil couldn’t help but laugh once he was gone, though, luckily, Lizzy did too.

“Oh Phil,” she said, sliding an arm around his neck. “Please tell me you’re not going to have kids. I can’t cope with any more.”

“I can honestly say that’s not even an option,” Phil replied.

“Good,” she said, slapping his back and standing up. “I mean, I think Clint would be amazing with kids and you’re pretty good but…”

“It wouldn’t work with our jobs,” Phil said reassuringly. “You have nothing to fear. We don’t want kids either. Seriously, don’t even worry about it.”

“I can’t help but worry,” she sighed. “I mean, Thomas and Paige’s oldest is married. I know you missed the wedding but, well, it won’t be long for them, right?”

“Don’t count them out yet,” he replied. “David got through his entire life without kids. So did Claire. Children are not the curse of this family.”

“You keep saying that,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “I feel like I’ve lost control of my life already. Isobelle was here this morning before we were even out of bed. Ellen will be here with Mary and all her rabble later. And then there’s David this evening and he’s always good for a laugh. I might just lock myself in my room.”

“I’m sorry to dump this one you,” Phil said, though he wasn’t sure it was genuine. Better here than at his mom’s house.

“You’re not,” she accused, poking him. “You like seeing me suffer.”

“I never would,” he protested, holding up his hands. “I just think you’re a super-woman. If there’s anyone in the world who can do this, it’s you.”

“Flattery’ll get you everywhere,” Lizzy sighed, straightening and looking at the kitchen. “Maybe I should go and see what Isobelle’s doing?”

“I wouldn’t,” Phil cautioned. “You’ll either be glared at or swallowed up by it. Better to take care of the kids, I think.”

“That’s a pretty terribly choice to have to make,” Lizzy said with a sigh. “But, fine. Children it is. Though if I die it’s entirely your fault.”

“Noted,” Phil assured her. “Though, well, you might not want to make that joke in there.”

“Is Auntie Jean still...silly question. Of course she’s still hurting.”

“We cleaned out the house yesterday and she’s somehow talked Clint into waiting on her every need. She’s...she’s had worse days.” Phil wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He knew he should feel good. After all, his mom was coming through alright. He needed that for her. But, on the other hand, he’d kind of thought she’d be broken up for longer. She had lost her husband, after all.

He knew not to judge other people’s grief but he couldn’t help but want to. It was still too fresh, for him. He’d think he was over it and he’d turn around and tear it all open again. It’d be better when he got out of here.

“I’m glad,” Lizzy sighed. “She’s a strong woman. She’ll hold out until after the funeral at least. She’s always been good at putting on a face when other people are around. And after that, don’t worry. John and I will keep an eye on her. I bet Isobelle will too, and Ellen. She’ll be fine, Phil.”

“I know she will,” Phil said. “I just...I wish I could be here.”

“You’d die of boredom in a minute. Though not until you’d killed Isobelle for smothering you.”

“True,” he said. “Right, let’s go and do something before someone comes looking for us.”

“Do we have to,” Lizzy whined, but she was already moving towards the living room. The set of her shoulder told Phil she had this in hand a lot better than she’d like him to think. She’d have almost made a good agent, if she wasn’t his family. Though he didn’t know if that was just his seeing May and Natasha in her.

***

Clint didn’t know a hell of a lot about real family gatherings. He hadn’t been to any of his own and, well, there’d been a girlfriend once who’d taken him to Christmas but that had been the worst disaster in the world. He’d been a thing to show her dad how totally rebellious she was. He hadn’t liked that. She hadn’t understood why he didn’t like that.

Phil’s family were different. They were, well, loud. He’d kind of thought a funeral would be a solemn affair but it was loud. There were a lot of kids about. Some of them were too young to understand death and that probably helped. People stood around or sat around in small groups and there was some of the crying he’d expected but, well, not as much. A lot of hugging and comforting. Kind of like Clint thought a family should be.

The best bit was, there were so many people they just seemed to absorb him. He didn’t feel like he stood out, particularly when Phil’s mom had apparently decided she needed to take care of him. He’d sat beside her for most of the morning and been introduced to most of the little ones when they’d run over to climb on her. He couldn’t help but notice the sadness in her eyes when she saw them. He got it. Everything reminds you of a loved one when they’re gone. She was probably thinking about them playing with her husband. Not playing with her husband any more. The thing they’d all lost.

“You know,” she said at around midday. The place had quieted a little, the children run off to harass the kitchen about food. “You don’t need to take care of me. I’ll get by.”

“I know you will,” he said, gripping her hand. “I just...someone should keep an eye out for you.”

“Don’t worry,” she insisted, patting his hand lightly. “Clint, these are my family. My nieces, nephews. Their children. I’m, well...I won’t say I’m alright but at least I’m taken care of here. You didn’t come here to take care of me. You came here to take care of Phil so, well, you should go do your job.”

“I don’t want to abandon you,” he said, already scanning the room for Phil. His sticking to Phil’s’ mom wasn’t entirely altruistic. He’d kind of thrown himself out there again with Phil and he wasn’t sure how he was meant to cope with what’d come back. ‘No, you can’t’ was easier to deal with than ‘we can be bestest best friends but no kissing’.

He’d deal with it because he wasn’t an ass. He didn’t expect Phil to magically change his mind. He just...well, it didn’t help the fact he was hopelessly in love.

Truly, hopeless.

“I’ll find him,” he said, finally. “He can cope just fine without me, though. You know that.”

“Oh, I know. Phil’s always been able to cope on his own. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like having you around. We were worried, last time we saw him. He was so stressed we thought he might have a heart attack. He seems better, now. He’s relaxed around you.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” Clint lied. He wasn’t sure how much more he was going to be able to take of people telling him he and Phil looked good together. “I’ll go find him.”

“You do that,” Phil’s mom said with an odd little smile and he quickly excused himself, heading out of the room in search of a change of topic.

Luckily, Phil was sat on the stairs with his phone in his hand. Clint moved quickly and sat down next to him, leaning against his side. It was kind of ridiculous how much he loved this. Even when he knew it didn’t mean anything, even when it hurt, he still loved being close to Phil.

“Have you finally managed to escape,” Phil asked, not looking up from the e-mail he was reading.

“For now,” Clint said with an exaggerated sigh. “Though, I’ve gotta tell you Sir, I’m going to have blackmail material for months after this.”

“Well, I’m sure that’ll even us out a little,” Phil commented and Clint scrunched up his nose at that thought. Phil had overseen his training and knew a few things Clint would rather the whole of S.H.I.E.L.D. not know. Still, too late to worry about that now.

“You know,” he said, leaning in. “Your family aren’t so bad. I thought...well, I thought from the way you talked they’d be...I dont know. I mean, there are a lot of them and Isobelle’s too much but she’s only trying to help.”

“Just you wait,” Phil said, sliding his phone closed. “Mary arrives this afternoon with her flock. And my uncle. You’ll love him.”

“Did I detect a note of sarcasm there, sir?”

“Maybe,” Phil conceded. “Think they’d notice if we ran away? It’s the build up that kills me. I still haven’t written my speech or anything. I was trying to do it then but, well, what do you even say. I just ended up checking my e-mails.”

“Something’s definitely up when you need to come to me for words,” Clint grumbled. “Alright, is there somewhere quiet we can go and talk? I can help you with words.”

“I don’t think anyone’s using John’s office,” Phil said with a shrug. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“He’d probably got bigger problems with his house being overrun and all,” Clint agreed, standing up. He waited for Phil to stand and lead the way up the stairs. He hadn’t thought he’d end up helping with something like this but, well, he’d promised to help and this was the least he could do. 

“Alright,” he said, once the office door closed behind them. The place was small and stuffy and full of papers and looked more lived in than any other room in the house. “Let’s grab some paper.”

“Actually writing things out?” Phil joked, eyebrow raised. “Is that how we’re doing this?”

“Yes, for now,” Clint said, grabbing a sheet of paper from the printer and a pot of pens from the desk. He dropped down onto the floor and gestured for Phil to sit across from him. Reluctantly Phil agreed. “I’ve been living with Stark too long. Even the sight of an electronic device brings me out in a rash.”

“That must be inconvenient,” Phil deadpanned. Clint grinned at him, waiting until Phil’s face cracked into a small smile.

“Alright,” he said, laying the paper down in front of them. “We start with the ideas. Tell me about your dad, Phil.”

“This might take a while,” Phil grumbled. “I can do it alone, you know.”

“This point is you don’t have to,” Clint insisted. “Now come on. You’ve told me some already, tell me more.”

***

Clint had met a lot of people in his life like Phil’s Uncle Gideon. Not that Phil called Gideon uncle. He’d already been twenty when Gideon had married his Aunt Mary, but it kind of helped Clint to keep track if he thought of him that way. Gideon walked in like he owned the place and Clint had breathed a deep sigh of disgust from where he was sat listening to one of Phil’s nieces chatter because he might not know this man but he knew a million like him.

Gideon walked with the authority of someone who was used to being right and used to others obeying him. He had the kind of bearing of a man who gave and received orders. Kind of like someone who would be in the military. He wasn’t a military man, though. He was a church man and in that way Clint thought he was probably worse.

Mary, he learnt from general gossip, had been married to a lovely man called Neil and they had a son Phil’s age. Then they’d moved across the country and started going to a church where Gideon served in the lower clergy. Gideon was the kind who thought adultery was completely and utterly wrong unless he was the one who was doing it so they’d had a thing and, eventually, Mary had left Neil (who Ellen couldn’t sing the praise of enough) for Gideon. This was generally regarded as a bad move and it didn’t take long for Clint to work out why.

Mary walked in Gideon’s shadow like she’d come to accept it as her place. Not cowering but basking in it, almost like she defined herself by it. He’d seen some of her smugness before but it was all on show with Gideon beside her. The two of them thought they were better than everyone else in the room and Clint was starting to suspect these were good people that Mary and Gideon were turning their noses up at.

He’d also heard talk about Mary’s rabble and presumed they meant kids. Like, children. Her youngest was twenty, the oldest of her current lot twenty-seven. Not children by any stretch, and not what Clint had mentally prepared himself for. Though he was glad that nobody else was trying to climb him like Isobelle’s six year old kept doing.

“We’re here,” Gideon had announced when he strode into the room, as though he expected them all to fall silent like his congregation.

“Help us all,” Claire had whispered at his elbow. “Now we’re going to get a show.”

“Philip,” Gideon said, crossing the room without breaking stride and shaking Phil’s hand. Clint had seen Phil shake hands with terrorists and drug smugglers with a more pleasant look on his fact then he had for this man. “I expected to hear from you sooner, son.”

“I’ve been busy,” Phil said, graciously passing on the son comment. “Will you have a drink?”

“In good time,” Gideon said, face almost comically sincere. “We need to talk. I’ve begun preparations to lead the mourning of your father’s death tomorrow, I need to discuss the details with you.”

“I’m sorry, Gideon,” Phil said, patting his arm affectionately. “I’m afraid there’s been a little misunderstanding. Dad was very clear in his will, he wanted the local vicar to lead the service.”

“Surely there’s a mistake,” Gideon said, a strange glint in his eye. “I mean, he may have said something like that but he wouldn’t have meant it. You knew your father. Always good for a joke.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” Phil said, voice gentle but firm. He wasn’t going to give in on this. It was the kind of voice Clint was used to hearing on operations and it made him want to go and stand behind Phil, letting his body back up what Phil was saying. Not that Phil couldn’t follow through on any threats he made himself but people looked at Phil and saw someone they could hurt and Clint really wasn’t up for people trying to hurt Phil at the moment.

“A misunderstanding.”

“Gideon, I’m not arguing with you about this,” Phil said calmly. “You’re welcome to join us tomorrow but you won’t be leading the ceremony.”

“If we phone the vicar.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Phil’s mom snapped, her voice surprisingly clear across the room. Clint hadn’t realised that everyone had fallen silent to listen to the exchange until she spoke. “Ben’s dead now so it can do no harm for you to know - he never liked you. One of the reasons he planned everything out was he didn’t want you involved in any way. Phil’s been more than nice to you, I’m not having you muscle your way in here.”

“If you think that’s appropriate,” Gideon managed, with a face like he’d been eating lemons. “But remember that I am family. I should, by right, be doing this.”

“We’re just following through on dad’s wishes,” Phil said, best diplomatic voice in place and damn but Clint loved that voice. He loved when Phil was so incredibly competent. “Can I get you that drink, now?”

“We’ll talk about this more later,” Gideon said, turning and leaving the room. Clint watched him go, relieved. He doubted Gideon would bring it up later and if he did, well, Clint would make sure he stuck close to Phil for the rest of the day just to be sure.

He knew it was ridiculous. This man was a self-important ass and not a threat but some part of him was just so scared of losing Phil he didn’t process that. 

Murmurs started around the room again and Clint politely excused himself, going to Phil. Phil looked over like he was expecting him and lifted a hand to lay reassuringly on his arm.

“He’s an ass, but he’s harmless.”

“I don’t know about that,” Clint grumbled, crowding in a bit. Phil let him, which was new and good and Clint knew it was kind of inappropriate to be thinking like this here and now but he couldn’t help it. He liked this new closeness as much as it worried him.

“Trust me. We’ve done this dance before. He has to say something like that to save face. In his own mind that lets him walk out the door and still be in control of the situation. He’ll back down.”

“Just remember that I’ve got your back if he doesn’t,” Clint grumbled, leaning in close. “I mean, I know you don’t need it but if you want me to keep him away from you for a while I can try to run interference or something?”

“I wouldn’t wish Gideon on anyone,” Phil reassured him. “Least of all you. Though I suggest we both stay out of his way for a while. Mary might not have told him about you yet but she will and he’ll have things to say.”

“What kind of things?” Clint asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I imagine a few derogatory terms for homosexual men will be in there,” Phil said with a helpless shrug. “Gideon’s church, well, it’s not what you’d call progressive.

“Basically what you’re telling me is he’s going to call me a fag but I should try not to punch him in his face?”

“Basically? Yes. That’s what I’m telling you,” Phil agreed. “Just...do your best?”

“I will,” Clint said with a sigh. Like today wasn’t long enough.

***

“I’m Naomi,” the dark skinned woman said smiling peacefully at him. “You must be Clint. Don’t worry, Dougie told me all about you. Here, hold this.”

He took what she passed him in instinct. He’d only come in here to get some ice and he was pretty sure he’d never seen this woman in his life before. He looked down at the bundle in his arms as it began to move.

A baby. Someone had given him a damn baby to hold. He panicked, adjusting his hold on the baby as the woman adjusted her dress.

“Oh, she likes you,” the woman cooed, leaning over. “This is Evie. Evie, this is Uncle Clint. Will you be a dear and hold her for me while I go find Dougie?”

“I don’t…”

“Good boy,” the woman said, already spinning away through the doors. Phil looked down at the little one in his arms. Cute, definitely, but he didn’t see why it had suddenly been dumped on him instead of one of the people at this party who was an experienced parent. He adjusted her again, trying to make her comfortable. She looked up at him with big eyes and they began to squirm in his grasp, trying to sit more upright.

“Hi,” he whispered, adjusting his hold. “Look, I know this isn’t what you expected from your day but it’s not what I expected either so we’re just going to have to stick with each other for a while.”

The baby looked at him, eyes wide like she hadn’t realised he could talk before. She brought her chubby hands up to try and grab bits of his face and Clint had to just let her. He knew what to do with older children, children this age were a mystery.

“I see you’ve met Evie?”

Clint looked up to see Phil slumped in the doorway. He looked drained. He was wearing a suit, as always, but the tie was uncharacteristically skewed and there were bags under his eyes.

“Yeah, I had her thrust on me. Presumably by her mother.”

“Naomi,” Phil said. “Doug’s wife. We worried when he got engaged to a woman so much younger than him but, well, you see she’s not the kind to give in to him. It’s more likely she bullied him into a relationship.”

“She was pretty forceful,” Clint agreed. “I don’t suppose you can hold this?”

Phil stepped forward, conjuring up a smile for the youngest member of his family as he gathered her into his arms. Clint watched as Phil held her close. It was sweet.

“Did you ever want kids?” he found himself asking.

“No,” Phil said, stroking Evie’s hair. “I mean, I thought about it when I was a young man but it would have never worked with the job. I have a plane full of people to take care of most days, I don’t need a baby too.”

“That’s true,” Clint agreed. “I thought I wanted kids when I was young. Then I didn’t for years because I thought I was too messed up to have them. Then, well, I’ve kind of got over the idea that I’m not mentally incapable of taking care of someone now. Still not sure I want kids, though. I mean, it hardly fits with the lifestyle.

“But if you weren’t an agent.”

“Sir, being an Agent is so much part of who I am that if I weren’t an agent, well, I don’t know what I’d be. At all. It can’t even think about it.”

“I get that,” Phil said with a small smile. “I think, sometimes, what my life would be like if I hadn’t been in S.H.I.E.L.D.. If I had the life my family think I do. I just...I think I’d have died or boredom already.”

“You definitely would,” Clint agreed with a laugh. “I mean, I don’t think you’d make a week. No offense, sir.”

“None taken,” Phil said, smiling fondly at the baby in his arms. She seemed to fuss less for Phil then she did for him and for a second Clint thought that, well, if it was Phil maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a baby after all.

But, then, most things were better with added Phil.

And he really was gone beyond all belief if he was thinking about having a family with Phil. Spoiled for everyone else for the rest of his life and he wasn’t even mad.

***

“How are you holding up?” Claire asked. Phil couldn’t help but smile. She was the first person in the family other than his mom to genuinely ask him that. Not to imply that the others didn’t care but they were all busy people with busy lives and, well, they were all caught up in their own grief. He couldn’t blame them. Claire, though. She got people in a way Phil sometimes didn’t. He admired that in her.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, folding the piece of paper he’d been reading and sliding it back in his pocket. His speech. He’d been reading it on and off all day whenever he had a spare five minutes. It was...genuine. Probably more so than something he’d have written on his own. He hadn’t meant for it to be but, well, talking to Clint was always addictive. He had this way of listening like you were the most important person in the universe and Phil was addicted to that. He’d ended up talking about things he hadn’t thought about in years. About memories of his dad that were, well, distant was the polite word for it.

The speech was affectionate. Longing for the days of his youth when daddy was the biggest superhero, better even then Captain America. It struck a note between regret they hadn’t spent as much time together as they could have and pride at the man he’d become because of the way he was raised.

It was a good speech, he owed Clint a lot.

“You ever wonder what it’s going to be like when our generation start going?” Claire asked, slumping against the wall next to him. “I mean, I know we’re going well. You’re still going and Dougie and you’re the oldest of us. No disease to speak of, we’re lucky.”

“Luckier then we even know,” Phil commented. He was thankful, once again, that his family hadn’t been informed of his temporary death. Coming back had been painful enough already with Clint being so needy and so achingly sincere and Natasha hating him and Stark trying to pretend like he didn’t mind when he did and the others he hadn’t known so well being a little put out by the entire thing. If he’d added in having to tell his family he wasn’t as dead as all that…

“You ever think about dying?”

“I try not to,” Phil said sincerely. “Besides, I can’t die before Gideon. Need to see that asshole out at least.”

“God yes,” Claire moaned. “At least he can’t be long. I mean, he’s 70 now?”

“Something like that,” Phil confirmed. Gideon was 69 but he knew from experience it was better to not let on how well he remembered little details like that. “Dad made it to 89 though.”

“He had a good run,” Claire agreed. “You need me to do anything? I know you’ve done most of the planning…”

“No,” Phil said, squeezing her arm. “I’ve got it.”

“I guess you’ve been getting Clint to help,” she said, speculatively. “He’s a sweetheart. I’d say send him my way if you get bored of him but he’s so obviously and achingly in love with you…”

“I had noticed that about him,” Phil said, rolling his eyes are her. “Not that I’d send him your way anyway.”

“Oh, he could handle me,” she said with a dismissive wave. “He’s stronger than he looks, that one. But, yeah, completely gone on you so I won’t even try. More’s the pity, I’m not joking about taking him on if you ever get bored.”

“If you say so,” Phil said, smiling again and trying not to dwell on the way the idea of Clint and Claire made his stomach turn.

***

Phil’s Uncle Dave drove a sports car that was inappropriate for a sixty year old man. It wasn’t a dignified car, something with style. Clint could have handled that. It was a flashy red thing that had obviously been decked out by an eighteen year old with too much free time and spare money. No expense had been spared turning this car into the douchiest car in existence. It made Tony’s cars look modest.

Clint watched him roar up from the living room window, Isobelle’s youngest asleep on his shoulder. He watched at the man himself climbed out. He wore a sports jacket and had his gray hair slicked back like some kind of aging film star. Clint hated him on sight. He’d never had time for people like that and normally the feeling was mutual.

Dave swept into the house like some kind of celebrity. Clint had seen Tony Stark enter a crowded press room with less fuss. He was aware he tended to judge big shows by Tony but there was a reason for that. This guy was obviously trying to channel Tony right down to the ridiculous facial hair and it wasn’t working.

“Hey, everyone,” he said as he burst into the room. Amelia stirred where she’d been lying on his shoulder and looked around groggily. It was 7pm. Food had been made and shared and there had been so much made for tomorrow he was pretty sure even this small army wasn’t going to be able to eat it. They’d cleaned and talked and, frankly, Clint was kind of tired. He’d been left with the kids far too long and what he really wanted to do was crawl back somewhere quiet and curl up in the dark next to Phil for a couple of hours while that was still a thing he was allowed to do.

“Oh Dave,” Ellen said, standing from where she’d been chain smoking for the last couple of hours. She was clutching a handkerchief to her face. Things had gotten kind of solemn as the kids had worn down. It was hard to grieve when surrounded by so much life but now…

“Hey, sexy,” he said, flashing her a grin. “How are you doing?”

“How do you think I’m doing?” she snapped, mopping at her eyes.

“It’s a funeral. Crying won’t bring him back,” Dave said with a shrug. Clint hated him. He’d gotten to the point where he knew Dave was Phil’s dad’s little brother. Losing a big brother, even one you weren’t close to, had to mess you up. He shouldn’t judge if Dave wanted to grieve by pretending it wasn’t a big deal but he sure as hell wanted to.

“Oh Ellen, leave him,” Phil’s mom said from the seat she’d commandeered all day. She’d been waited on hand and foot but still somehow looked tired, diminished. She’d looked better yesterday as they went through the boxes. She was the kind of woman who suited movement.

“Jean, good to see you,” he said, swooping across the room to kiss her cheek. “Told you all those years ago you should have married me and not him. Then you’d still have a husband.”

“For fuck sake Dave, shut up,” John growled, pushing off from the wall. “I don’t want you speaking like that in my house.”

“Just a joke,” Dave said, holding his hands up as thought that’d somehow make him alright. Clint would have hit him but he almost couldn’t believe him. Everything about him was over the top and cartoonish. It was like someone had mocked up a caricature for someone incredibly offensive and brought it to life. Almost too outlandish to really believe.

“Just calm down,” Phil’s mom said, shifting in her chair. “This isn’t the time for your theatrics. Your brother’s dead.”

“I know,” Dave said, his voice dropping. “He’s been dead for a while, Jean. When’s the last time you heard him laugh? And he’d want us to laugh. You know him, wouldn’t have wanted us all sat around here, frowning.”

“You don’t know him,” Phil’s mom said. “Sure, he wouldn’t have wanted us to cry but he understood why we’d want to. Understood all too well. Go to the kitchen and get a drink, calm down. Come back in again.”

“Whatever,” Dave said with a flippant sigh, turning and striding from the room. Clint winced. He clearly hadn’t listened.

“Clint,” Phil’s mom hissed, pulling at his sleeve. “Here, give me Amelia. Phil’s in the kitchen, he can’t stand Dave.”

“I can see why,” he said before he could help himself, moving obligingly to lower the still bleary little girl onto Phil’s mom’s lap. “I mean, no offense.”

“Oh, don’t. Dave has a bit of an inferiority complex. He’s the youngest of three by a stretch. He’s only ten years older than Phil and seems to think he has to outdo Phil at everything since he’s the Uncle and Phil’s the nephew. Things can get a little messy between them, I just want someone to distract them.”

“I can do that,” Clint said, finally fully freeing himself. Running interference was what he’d been doing all weekend after all. He could do a little more.

The kitchen was surprisingly full. Isobelle was still there putting the finishing touches to a last cake, Mary helping her. Candy, Mary’s eldest, was sat on the counter eating frosting like she was a baby and not a twenty-seven year old woman. Lizzy was lounging at the island with Phil, and now Dave.

If Dave’s posture had been saying asshole since he entered the house, it was now saying defensive asshole. He wasn’t here to chat or make friends, he was here to stir shit up. Phil had a resigned look on his face like he knew it and, when Clint came in, they made eye contact briefly.

Clint could write a book on eye contact with Phil. Alright, it wouldn’t be a long book and nobody else would want to read it but he could. He’d known Phil long enough that just that brief glance at his expression told Clint everything he needed to know. He needed to stand the hell down. Maybe even remove himself from the situation. Normally this was when Phil wanted to play the weak man for a little while to placate someone before he pulled out the stone-cold badass but Clint knew the song was different today. Phil wasn’t playing for time until he could prove himself. This was endgame. He was going to let Dave make himself feel big and leave it.

And that, frankly, was shit. He’d be a good boy and stay back for now but he sure as hell wasn’t leaving Phil alone here.

“Hey, little nephew,” Dave said, moving to lean against the island in a position that left him looming over Phil. Clint had seen men built like walls stand next to Phil and look like the smaller man. If Dave looked bigger now it was only because Phil was letting him.

“Hello, Uncle Dave,” Phil said, calmly. “How are things?”

“Oh, can’t complain,” Dave said with a grin. Lizzy rolled her eyes, shoving away from the counter without a word and moving to flank Clint by the door. He leant against her a little as he watched Dave roll his shoulders. Phil took an unconcerned sip of his drink. “I mean, profits are up. Company’s doing better than it ever has before. I’ve got this new sports car, you’ll have to let me show it you sometimes. Hey, maybe you can have my old car?”

“I have a car, that’s fine,” Phil said, his lip curling a little in an instinctual display of disgust. Clint tried to imagine Phil driving around New York in something like the monstrosity Dave had pulled up in and he wanted to laugh.

“Your loss,” Dave said with a kind of sneer that made it obvious he thought Phil’s loss was a general statement, not just related to the car. “How’s the old job? Still boring?”

“Still the same,” Phil said, like he hadn’t taken out a wannabe super-villain in the last week. It made Clint bristle a little but he was kind of used it to by now. Phil was…Phil was awesome and if his family didn’t look at him and realise that whatever he did wasn’t boring accounting that was their loss.

“You know,” Mary said, not looking up from her work. “Maybe you should listen to Dave, Phil. He’s so much more successful than you.”

“Not that you can judge by money,” Isobelle added quickly, “But you do seem to be lagging a little. You’ve had the same job for a long time.”

“I like my job,” Phil defended.

“You’re comfortable,” Dave accused. “Same job since you’ve been out of the army. That’s just laziness. You should have started your own business by now. I know your old man wanted that for you.”

“That’s between me and him,” Phil said, trailing off a little at the end of the sentence as he realised it wasn’t strictly true anymore. He couldn’t just go and talk to his dad and know things were alright again and for a second he looked stricken. Clint could have punched Dave for putting that look on his face.

“I hate to push in,” Lizzy said, frowning. “And god knows this isn’t the time and I’d normally rather die than agree with Dave…”

“Thanks, darling.”

“But maybe he has a point about your job, Phil. I mean, couldn’t you think about setting up your own firm?”

“Not interested,” Phil said firmly. He was carefully hiding his expression, he clearly hadn’t expected Lizzy to join in on the attack.

“I mean…” Lizzy started, then she trailed off, checking about her. She glanced at Clint and withered a little at his expression so maybe he wasn’t doing as good of a job at not showing what he was feeling as he’s like. “It’s just an idea.”

“I’m happy with what I do,” Phil said calmly. “That’s all you need you know.”

“You were always content to be second,” Dave said with a long-suffering sigh and Clint really, really had to hold himself back from punching him. He couldn’t deny it was a little true was the thing. Phil didn’t like being the one in the spotlight, he liked being the one behind it getting it all to work. He was perfectly capable of killing a man using only a paper clip without even wrinkling his suit but Clint knew he got a hell of a lot more satisfaction from being the person who organised it all behind the scenes and watched it go off, who knew the world was substantially safer for his being there. The guy who saved people, like he’d saved Clint and Natasha and the entire fucking world and like he was saving a plane full of idiots as a day job now.

It was possible Clint thought Phil deserved some more credit for saving the entire world.

“You should think about this carefully,” Mary said, still not doing them the decency of looking at them as she tried to bring her nephew down. “I mean, we all worry about you.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Phil said carefully. “My life’s fine.”

“But we do worry,” Isobelle insisted, wringing her hands in her dish cloth and, damn, Clint just wanted to grab Phil and run away from here. None of these people deserved him. He shouldn’t have to listen to this. “We love you, Phil. We want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“I have to admit,” Lizzy said, shifting, “I was worried. I mean, I’m a little less worried now I’ve met Clint. He’s a good guy, right?” She patted Clint’s arm reassuringly and Clint wanted to hit her. When this was coming out of Dave’s mouth it had been bad enough but Lizzy. He knew Phil liked her, respected her opinion.

“Who’s Clint?” Dave asked, turning to look at Clint properly for the first time. He raised an eyebrow and turned back to Phil.

“Him? Where did you find him?”

“We work together,” Phil said, coldly. “He’s not relevant to this conversation.”

“A friend?” Dave asked, turning to look sceptically at Clint again and, of course, the asshole was the first one to believe the truth about them.

“They’re dating,” Lizzy said, defensively placing an arm around Clint’s shoulders, Clint shrugged it off, stepping away from her a little. He didn’t want to be associated with her right now.

“That’s a whole other problem,” Mary said, eyes down. “I mean, it was bad enough when Phil was gay without parading it in front of my children.”

“I’m hardly parading it,” Phil protested. Clint took a step towards him but a quick glance from Phil stopped him in his tracks. He’d only do more harm than good right now. “He’s here to help.”

“He’s been a great help,” Lizzy said quickly, patting Clint on the shoulder again like he hadn’t just shrugged her off. “Really got stuck in and helped.”

“If Phil has to date a man,” Isobelle said, her mouth thin. “There are worse men.”

“Well thank you,” Clint snapped. He knew it was basically a ringing endorsement coming from her but it still burnt a little. He’d thought these people liked him, now they seemed to barely be defending him and, worse, they were getting at Phil in the process. Phil, who was meant to be family. Clint didn’t know a hell of a lot about family but he knew they were meant to stick with you.

“So, he’s a good guy?” Dave said, giving him an appraising look. “Not bad in the looks either. Is he trash or something?”

“What?” Phil snapped. Clint would be happy to see him finally fight back if only he’d been doing it for himself and not Clint.

“Come on,” Dave said with an eye roll. “He’s into you? You’re a boring middle aged accountant with a fetish for Captain America. We all know it, Phil. I suppose it’s nothing to be ashamed of if you’re happy but if this guy is with you there must be something wrong with him or he’d have walked by now.”

“Fuck you,” Clint spat, and all of the cautioning looks from Phil in the world couldn’t have stopped him now. “You know shit. Phil’s awesome and I don’t care how old he is or what he does for a living. I love him because he’s the best damn man I’ve ever met. He’s worth ten of you.”

“Stop swearing in front of my child,” Mary said, her voice sharp.

“Your child’s a grown ass woman,” Clint bit. Mary did look up then, her expression vaguely hurt but he couldn’t help it. These people all thought Phil was some kind of joke and they were wrong. So damn wrong.

“If you think what’s important about a person is what kind of job they have or anything like that your life’s messed up. Nothing matters but who you are, what you do in a crisis. Phil dropped the very important shit he was doing to drive straight over here and sort everything out. He’d done more for me then, well, I can’t even tell you. If I get a chance I’m going to be in his life for every damn day of mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dave sneered. The women were, at least, looking contrite. “You say that but…”

“Nothing any of you can say will make me stop loving Phil.” He directed that look at Phil who was stood next to Dave, expression perfectly neutral. Clint knew then he’d fucked up, like he didn’t know it before. “I need some air,” he said, shaking his head.

Nobody stopped him as he barged out the kitchen door into the tiny patio of the house. Voices erupted inside as the door slammed shut behind him but he didn’t care. He didn’t even care because none of them were worth it. None of them understood and none of them deserved Phil and he, he deserved Phil. He knew he was being a spoilt brat but he hated that these people got to be a part of Phil’s life and he couldn’t get rid of them by virtue of birth and they didn’t even appreciate what they’d got and he...he loved Phil. Loved him so damn much that losing him had nearly destroyed him and…

And he was being a whiny emo teenager and he needed to get out of here and breathe before he made things even worse. That was his greatest super power after all, making things even worse.

It was easy to scale the wall around the yard and walk away. He didn’t know the area but he had a good enough sense of direction to trust himself to get back. He let himself fume for a good half an hour and then found a fire escape to climb. He always saw better from a distance and being up high helped him think too.

The roof was flat and uninteresting, like a million he’d crouched on before. He walked around it a couple of times, keeping low. Didn’t need some local person calling the cops. Once he was sure he was secure (of course, why wouldn’t it be, such a paranoid head case) he crouched in a corner and made himself think logically.

Phil wasn’t his. He wished he was but he wasn’t.

Phil didn’t want to be his. He wanted to be friends, which was great. Clint would take friends over nothing any day but they weren’t lovers. They were never going to be lovers.

Phil didn’t love him. Not in the way he loved Phil. Not enough to risk everything to be with him. Clint would risk everything for Phil. He knew that.

Clint was going to destroy them. He could already see it coming. He’d seen it in other people’s relationships. Up until now it hadn’t been too bad but he would destroy them if he carried on like this. He was hoping, and he couldn’t stop because he wanted Phil so bad but he knew damn well that he was going to have to stop.

Phil didn’t want him. He couldn’t change that. If he kept hoping he was going to drive Phil away. He just had to stop hoping. Stop loving Phil.

You might as well have asked him to stop breathing.

He laughed to himself, then shut up pretty quickly as laughing to himself on a roof had to be a new low. Or, well, a new low for this week anyway. His life was so fucked up.

He was just going to have to get over himself because the alternative was losing Phil and there was no way he was going to accept that as an option.

When his feet hit the pavement again his head was feeling clearer, at least. Life was unfair but he’d known that since he was a kid. Phil didn’t love him and that was tough shit, he’d deal with it. He didn’t have the right to yell at any of Phil’s relatives, he needed to apologise to them and to Phil because he’d made it all ridiculous and he was meant to make it better.

Story of his fucking life.

The walk back seemed to take twice as long as the walk out. He followed the same route until he hit the street the house was on and then decided to approach by the front. They’d have noticed he was gone by now, no point trying to sneak in.

For a few minutes he thought about just waiting outside until Phil left but that was the coward’s way out.

He needn’t have bothered. Someone was obviously watching from the window as, when he got close to the house, the front door opened and Phil came out.

Phil looked angry and worried and any number of other things and Clint couldn’t blame him. He’d made a mess of everything again.

“Sorry, sir,” he mumbled, scuffing his boot on the pavement. “I fucked everything up.”

“You gave them all a fright,” Phil said, coming down the steps. “I wouldn’t say fucked everything up, though. Dave’s stormed off somewhere, apparently he didn’t like the way you spoke to him or the fact that Mom told him if she could only have one of you at the funeral like he said she’d rather have you.”

“Your mom said that?”

“My mom thinks you hung the stars,” Phil said with a dry little smile.

“Yeah, she’s wrong about that,” Clint said with a laugh. “All I do is make a mess of things. But, I guess you’re used to cleaning up my messes. Still, I shouldn’t have shouted at your family.”

“Clint,” Phil said with a sigh. He stepped down the last step and put an arm around Clint’s shoulder and Clint went, pressing into Phil’s side though he knew he shouldn’t.

“Listen,” Phil breathed, rubbing slow circles on Clint’s back. “I know you don’t have much experience of family but this, this is pretty normal. We’ve all been pretty quiet because, well, it’s a funeral and my dad was a good man. He was the rare member of this family everyone liked. Normally at least two people would be refusing to talk to anyone else by now. My mom and Carol, my dad’s sister, used to regularly end up screaming obscenities at each other at family functions before Carol died. Nobody cares that you got angry.”

“I care,” Clint grumbled, though he didn’t pull away from Phil. “I’m meant to be making things better…”

“You are making things better,” Phil said, rubbing his shoulder gently. “More than you know. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Even if I shout at your relatives?”

“I think especially if you’re shouting at my relatives. I mean, they’re pretty obnoxious sometimes. I’d like to have a good shout at them too but I get into trouble for that kind of thing. You can get away with it.”

“I don’t like how they talk about you,” Clint found himself saying, like that wasn’t perfectly obvious.

“They don’t know me,” Phil said with a shrug. “Why would I let the opinions of people who don’t know me hurt me? Though I suspect you have something of a skewed opinion too. I’m definitely not the best man you know.”

“Sorry, Phil, but you are. You took a chance on me when nobody else would. You brought me in, saved me. I wouldn’t be who I am without you.”

“Another Agent would have done it.”

“No, another Agent would have done their job. I know you went above and beyond for me, don’t even deny it. It’s what you do. Like when you take a ridiculous girl who’s a member of a network we’re targeting and make her a member of your team because she’s had a sad life.”

“She’s also very good at what she does,” Phil said, his tone a little defensive. Clint made a little noise of agreement and dropped it. He’d learnt it was best not to criticise Phil’s new team even if they were all dirty thieves taking Phil away from him. Apparently telling them that was mean.

“Come on,” Phil said, finally, tugging at his shoulder. “I think things are nearly done here. Let’s wrap up and go home.”

“Sounds good,” Clint agreed, though moving away from Phil to do it didn’t sound so great, actually. “Though maybe I’ll wait out here. I don’t really want to see your family now. Not the asshole section anyway.”

“They’re not so bad,” Phil said with a shrug. “I’ll go get Mom though, if you want.”

“Thanks,” Clint said, forcing himself to step back. He caught a glimpse of faces retreating from the window and sighed. It was like being in the damn tower, having so many people spying on him.

***

Phil waited until he was safely under the covers to let himself really analyse the incident. The Incident, he somehow felt he was making it so much more dramatic than it actually was. Clint had lost his temper and yelled at someone. It wasn’t the end of the world.

The thing was, he felt like it was the end of the world. He felt like it was something strange and with great significance. Though maybe the significance was more in him and what he’d felt about it then in Clint.

It was...he’d not been thinking straight in that kitchen. Normally he could handle his family better. He didn’t know if it was having Clint there or having Lizzy turning on him but normally he handled this kind of thing with grace. He let it roll off his back. He laughed at himself. He hadn’t been able to do any of that today and that hadn’t helped the situation.

Honestly, if Clint hadn’t said anything he’d have been inclined to say something himself. He could feel it rolling under the surface but the worst thing was it wasn’t for him. He, well, they could say what they wanted about him. Could and had for years. He knew they were wrong, they didn’t bother him.

The look on Clint’s face had bothered him. The subtle implication that there must be something fundamentally wrong with Clint for him to want to be with Phil had annoyed him. He knew, intellectually, that there were a great many things wrong with Clint that probably contributed to where they were now. There were a great many things wrong with anyone heavily involved with S.H.I.E.L.D., he’d found. The thing was, for him to know Clint was vulnerable was one thing. For Dave to presume it when he had no grounds was another.

Clint wasn’t some broken thing. Clint was amazing and deserved to be treated like he was amazing.

Phil let himself look over at Clint. When they’d got back to the house he’d been uncharacteristically quiet. They’d seen his mom to bed and then drunk water by the sink in silence. He’d wanted to break the silence, wanted to make things better but he wasn’t sure what to address first or if he even could make it better.

They’d slipped into bed in silence and Phil had spent a good hour faking sleep before he was convinced Clint was actually asleep next to him.

Clint was beautiful when he slept. He was beautiful all the time but when he slept...it was astounding how good he looked. Phil wanted to do a million things he knew he couldn’t right from the sexual to rolling over and hugging Clint and never letting him go.

It had seemed to easy back in the tower months ago to say no to Clint. It had seemed like the right choice. He had a new team and they needed a lot of attention. He often couldn’t even see Clint. Clint was still technically his subordinate. It would be unprofessional and impractical and any feelings he had didn’t negate those facts.

Now, lying next to Clint in bed all of that seemed vaguely ridiculous. He knew he couldn’t have it but he wanted this. Just this. He wanted to wake up next to Clint every morning. He wanted to fall asleep next to Clint every night. He wanted Clint to get indignant on his behalf and he wanted to get indignant on Clint’s behalf and he wanted to have stupid fights and make up and…

Maybe he was a little bit in love with Clint. Maybe he had been for a while. Still, that was no excuse to let standards slip.

Clint shifted in his sleep, reaching forward, and Phil moved automatically to slide his hand into Clint’s. It looked good like that.

Maybe there was a part of him, just maybe, that hadn’t really believed Clint before. After all, he knew what he was to Clint. He’d been the one to bring him into S.H.I.E.L.D.. He’d literally picked him of the street and changed his entire life. Of course Clint was going to be attached to him. Of course Clint was going to be upset when he died and, well, Clint wasn’t exactly known for good relationship choices and healthy coping mechanisms. Maybe he realised he felt something for Phil but…

Phil was aware he was being very patronising but what if? What if he put himself out there, compromised his morals, and got nothing from it? What if Clint turned out to not want to be in his life really? What then?

Only, well, tonight. The look in his eyes when he’d talked to Dave. The moment he’d looked straight into Phil’s eyes and declared nothing could make him stop loving Phil. The ‘not even you’ unsaid but received all the same.

Maybe it was worth a try.

He forced himself to look away. He wasn’t in any fit state to be making emotional decisions right now. Not when he was burying his dad tomorrow. Reluctantly he freed his hand and rolled so his back was to Clint.

He needed space. Needed to clear his head. Once he was out of here, away from his family and from their weird intimacy that’s grown up between them, he’d be able to see straight.

He just needed to wait. It’d all work itself out somehow.

***

It had been a while since Clint had been to a funeral. It’s possible that with the rushing and the crowds from the last few days he’d underestimated just how sad it was going to be. Phil had woke him up twice in the night shifting and again in the morning to get dressed. They had funeral appropriate suits on hire and he felt like an idiot in his. Phil looked like a professional badass as always. Just one with a kind of sadness around the edges.

Phil had stopped him before they left the bedroom and, well, hugged the hell out of him for a few minutes. Clint had hugged back just as good as he got. He knew today Phil was going to, well, not be alright. He knew he’d need someone and Clint wasn’t always going to be able to be there but he would damn well be there for the bits he could.

And then there was breakfast and Phil’s mom looking stern and untouchable but clinging to Clint’s arm like it was the only thing holding her up. They’d headed out to the car and trekked to Lizzy’s where somehow they’d been split and reassigned to other cars and somehow Clint had spent the drive to the funeral sat in the back of Ellen’s car which reeked of cigarette smoke between Isobelle’s youngest, Amelia, who’d decided he was awesome fun and Mary’s oldest daughter, Candy, who kept trying to stroke his thigh and that made him all kinds of uncomfortable.

Someone had come to the funeral home the night before to decorate and it was all tasteful. Understated. Someone had put a small collection of Phil’s dad’s favourite things out with a guest book next to it and when Clint was pushed up to sigh he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say so he ended up just putting his name and moving on.

He tried to get near Phil but he was crowded with well-wishers and Clint didn’t want to add to the stress to he hung back, watching from the sidelines. Phil was as professional as always. He let people shake his hand, cry on him. Clint wasn’t sure he’d have been able to cope in Phil’s position.

And then they were all trooping into the church and somehow he was shuffled into an aisle between Isobelle’s husband Ted who didn’t seem to know what he was doing there and Paige who couldn’t seem to stop sobbing into her handkerchief.

Going to the funeral of someone you didn’t know was pretty surreal. Everyone was so damn sad and Clint was sad in theory. He didn’t want Phil to have lost his dad. But, well, he didn’t know the guy. His grief wasn’t...well...grief.

It was probably a lovely ceremony. Gideon sat through the entire thing with a ramrod straight back as though it offended him but it was nice. The priest told a few stories and then various members of the family were allowed to stand and tell a story. They said prayers and sang hymns and, finally, Phil stood up to speak.

Clint had seen Phil deliver any number of speeches over the last however many years they’d known each other. He always did it with a kind of quiet grace. He had this quirk of his lip he used for addressing gatherings, a kind of invitation to come closer and find out what he was talking about.

Phil today looked different. He looked...tired. Tired in a way Clint knew wasn’t from the fact he’d tossed and turned last night. He stood there, took out his notes, looked around the crowd, and for a second nothing happened.

Clint would have given one hell of a lot in that moment to be able to be up there next to Phil. To be able to offer his support. But he couldn’t right now. This was something Phil had to do alone and if he did go up there he’d only be belittling Phil. Only be implying he somehow couldn’t do it alone which was ridiculous.

Phil closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and finally he began to sleep.

“My dad…” he said, leaning slightly against the rail in front of him. “He was an amazing man. He taught me a lot in life…”

And just like that, the speech they’d written together was there, rolling off Phil’s tongue like he felt it from his soul. Like it was spontaneous and maybe it was, a little. As spontaneous as Phil got anyway as these words weren’t fake. They were pure, just practiced. Nobody could blame him for that.

As he spoke he leant more, keeping his eyes shut in a way he never would when addressing any other gathering. Clint listened to the stories he’d heard yesterday and, well, he kind of wanted to cry a little. He’d never met that man but he’d clearly meant the world to Phil and if that wasn’t enough to make Clint respect him, well.

The speech ended and there was a round of well-deserved applause before Phil turned and walked back to his seat. He leant in and hugged his mom and Clint watched as the priest stood, calling for them all to stand to sing another hymn. He stood with one eye on Phil so he was watching as Phil left his mom and walked down the aisle of the church. He was ready when Phil stopped and reached for him and it was easy to slide past Paige and her sobbing and to take Phil’s hand. To allow himself to be pulled into a hug.

“You did great,” he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down Phi’s back. “He’d be proud of you.”

“He was,” Phil said, stepping back a little. “Come sit up front with me?”

“If you think...I don’t want to upset anyone…”

“Clint, I honestly couldn’t care what anyone else here thinks right now. I want you to come and sit next to me, will you?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, because what else could he say really. He let Phil take his hand and guide him to the front of the church. He let Phil keep his hand when they sat. Phil’s mom spared him a small nod of her head. It was enough.

The rest of the ceremony was brief and to the point. Phil’s mom didn’t speak, Clint kind of got the impression that if she’d have tried she’d not have managed to keep up her S.H.I.E.L.D.s. They sang again and they were all excused and they trooped outside in into the crisp late-morning sun.

This time when the line formed to shake Phil’s hand Clint was stood there as Phil’s side. A few people shook his hand or hugged him like this was somehow his loss too but he mainly focused on Phil. He left a hand on Phil’s back and Phil seemed to lean into it. It was kind of weirdly gratifying that he was actually being allowed to support Phil like this.

After that they all broke again to take various cars to the actual grave. Somehow he ended up riding with Phil and his mom this time. He couldn’t think of a damn thing to say so he sat there in silence the entire drive.

Phil kept reaching over to touch him as he changed gears and such and eventually Clint let his hand fall onto Phil’s thigh. For a second he had a flash of the horribly uncomfortable ride to the church with Candy’s hand on his knee but Phil reached down to squeeze Clint’s hand then lay it back where it had been so apparently the gesture wasn’t unwelcome.

The graveyard involved a lot more standing around shaking hands. And then standing next to a grave with Phil’s hand held tight in his, watching as they committed the body to the earth. Phil’s mom finally broke, tears running down her cheeks as her expression remained unchanged. Phil put an arm around her shoulder but she didn’t acknowledge it. He guessed that was just how she kept things together.

He couldn’t blame her for coping any way she could.

He watched the box go into the earth with a strange heaviness. There was a finality to the entire thing. No chance of a reprieve. Just death and endings. He couldn’t help but dwell on his own losses. He wondered if it would have been easier if they’d been able to bury Phil. Probably not. He wasn’t sure how he’d have gotten through that funeral. Definitely not with the dry eyes Phil was managing for this one.

Stark had asked for the body a million times and Fury had told them no. Told them it was a S.H.I.E.L.D. thing, they couldn’t have him and, honestly, Clint hadn’t wanted him. Hadn’t wanted to admit he was really dead. That he’d never have a chance to say all the shit he’d wanted to say but never been brave enough. Because it was all about bravery, really. It took a lot to tell someone you loved them, especially when you knew they might not say it back. He knew he was far from a catch but, well, he’d wanted to let Phil know.

He didn’t regret it. Not for a second.

There was another round of handshaking after the funeral. Mary and Ellen appeared to take Phil’s mom away, the three of them forming a huddle of grief. Sisters. He wondered if losing Phil would have been easier to cope with if he’d had Barney to take him aside and help but, then, Barney had never been much good at helping and he’d had Nat who was about as close to a sister as he was ever going to get. She’d done her best for him. They’d all done their best for him but not a lot could mend a broken heart.

They climbed into the cars again in silence and began the drive back to Lizzy’s.

***

Phil was losing his mind and he didn’t know what to think any more. He’d thought, somehow, he’d be able to cope with it all but he clearly couldn’t. He was working on auto-pilot, he knew that now. He’d thought that the funeral would be like just another day but, in so many ways, it wasn’t.

His dad was dead. He’d buried his dad.

As much as they hadn’t been close recently, he’d been close to his dad for so many years. So many of the key decisions in his life had been made after a long discussion with dad. He wished he could sit him down and tell him about Clint. He’d like Clint. Or, well, appreciate Clint. Clint maybe wasn’t quiet enough that they’d ever be great friends but he’d see that Clint was a good man. A great man. They could talk. Everything would be clearer if only he could talk to his dad.

“Sir.”

Phil blinked. There were tears in his eyes and he was meant to be driving. He needed to focus on the road. He needed to…

He stopped the car, opened the door and stepped out. It was cold outside, crisp. His dad had appreciated this kind of weather. He went for walks in it and now he’d never do that again. Now he’d never do anything again. His dad was dead.

Phil had been dead.

He wasn’t sure why he thought it, why he’d suddenly lost it but he was crouching by the side of the road retching and Clint was rubbing his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to push Clint way. “This is pathetic. After everything I’ve done, I should be able to handle this.”

“No offense, Phil,” Clint said, refusing to budge. “That’s bullshit. Yeah, we’ve been through some shit but that’s always been on adrenaline and it’s never been losing your dad.”

“I was fine.”

“I know,” Clint agreed. “I’d never have let you drive if I didn’t think you were alright.”

“I...I just...I realised I never get to go to him for advice again. Never get to talk to him again. I mean, I knew that. I’m not…”

“After the battle of New York…” Clint started, and Phil knew where this story was going. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it, not now. Not when his own mortality seemed so incredibly close. It was as though, in a weird way, he’d thought his dad was going to live forever. Clearly it had been a ridiculous belief but that hadn’t stopped it. Now...well, if dad could die then maybe the next time he died it would stick?

“You don’t want to hear this, sorry,” Clint mumbled, shifting away. Phil reached out to grab his arm, pulling him closer. He hadn’t known he’d let that show on his face.

“No, you’re right, I don’t want to hear it. But if you’re telling it it’ll probably help so, if you need to tell it…”

“I just...after the battle of New York we all went for Shwarma. It was the most ridiculous thing. Stark had just flown a nuke into space. We’d defeated an alien army. We’d all nearly died. I knew by then you had died. And we went for Shwarma. We all sat there silently eating, like we were just these people out for Shwarma. Maybe a group of people who didn’t like each other too much or something? We were pretty quiet. It was like, at the time, there was too much to take in. Like my mind couldn’t process it all so it didn’t even try. I just ate my damn Shwarma and tried not to think.

“It wasn’t until days later I finally cried. I completely fell to pieces. Nat’ll tell you. I...I was pretty messed up. Screaming, crying, puking, the entire undignified works. It was like the reality of it all hit me in one burst.”

“Did it help?” Phil asked, sitting back on his heels. “Was it cathartic?”

“No,” Clint admitted, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “It was...kind of tiring. I slept for like two days and then there was the rage and the depression but,...that doesn’t matter right now. I just...I just wanted you to know I’m not judging you, really. Anything you do I’ve done things about twenty times worse. I didn’t even apologise to Nat for months. However you need to feel about this, whatever you need to do. I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Phil said, reaching over to grab Clint, to bring him closer so they could lean on each other. Clint obliged, closing his eyes and leaning in as if he needed this touch as much as Phil did.

“Maybe I have problems trusting other people,” Phil admitted. Clint grunted like that wasn’t new information and, hell, it probably wasn’t. “Can you drive us to Lizzy’s?”

“Of course I can,” Clint said, squeezing him. “You sure you don’t need more time.”

“I’m always going to need more time,” Phil said, forcing a dry smile. “If we’re gone too long they’ll get suspicious though. We need to get back in there for now. As much as we might not want to.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Clint said, taking the car keys. “I’ll run interference for you.”

“Just...just stay close,” Phil asked, making himself head for the passenger seat. He really wanted to tell Clint to take them home. Home home, not his mom’s house. He knew that wasn’t an option just yet, though. They had a way to go yet before they could sleep.

***

The wake or the gathering or whatever Clint was meant to call it was packed. He hadn’t thought there were more people expected than yesterday but apparently he was wrong. As well as Phil’s family the house was full of friends and people who only tangentially knew Phil’s dad but felt obliged to make an appearance as well as the family members who weren’t considered close enough to be part of the core group.

It was ridiculous and overwhelming and the adults were all sat around trying to look sombre while the children raced around, being vibrantly alive in a way that showed a complete lack of respect for death, as they should.

He considered briefly going to check on other people but Phil needed him right now so, instead, he stayed close to Phil’s side. Phil held his hand most of the time, a physical tie in a sea of people. It was reassuring. A nice little reminder that Phil wanted him close.

The entire thing was, obviously, a pretty sombre affair. There was a lot of hand-shaking and condolence and it took a good hour and a half for the crowd to shrink during which time the massive piles of food that had been made yesterday and Clint had thought excessive were whittled down to only those few sandwiches that nobody ever seemed to really like but people always made anyway.

Phil stood at the door the entire time with a smile on his face thanking people for their condolences and if Clint hadn’t been there he’d never have believed Phil was crying on the roadside just a little while ago.

But, then, he’d probably never believe that about Phil. He’d seen Phil show weakness before and he never seemed to remember it properly after. It was like it was an illusion, his brain couldn't process Phil being anything less than badass. He was aware that might be an issue.

Finally things started to die down to just the normal crush of family. Clint watched quietly as Phil’s shoulders relaxed a little with every person who went out of the door until the only people left were family and a few persistent hangers-on. By now it was late afternoon and even the children had run out of get up and go.

“Come on,” Phil said, tugging at this joined hands. “Let’s get some coffee. We’re going to need it.”

“I thought we were nearly done,” Clint grumbled, trailing behind Phil as he had all day. The kitchen was blessedly deserted and he finally risked letting go of Phil to go and fetch some mugs as Phil set the coffee maker working. It was weirdly domestic to putter around the kitchen with him. He wondered if, when they got back, Phil would stop by the tower sometimes to putter around the kitchen with him. He wondered if what he got back he was still going to be able to touch Phil but then he tried to stop wondering as the probable answer was too depressing to contemplate.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Phil said, as though he had something to apologise for. “I know this can’t be fun for you but the family will probably eat dinner together and then, well, this could go on for a while. Someone’s going to break out the alcohol eventually and it’s customary to drown our sorrows while telling increasingly rowdy stories about whoever’s gone. You don’t have to stay…”

“That honestly sounds like the best part of the day,” Clint said, stepping closer to Phil so their shoulders bumped. “Besides. I told you I was going to stay so I’m going to stay. No backing out.”

“I wouldn’t want to make a liar of you,” Phil said, his lips lifting in a tiny smile and Clint felt it like a great victory. He didn’t get too many of them with Phil so he’d take them where he could.

They got their coffee and headed into the living room. Phil’s mom smiled to see them, and that was kind of awesome. Clint maybe liked being in a family a little more than he should.

Phil sat down next to his mom and Clint sat down beside Phil, resting his hand on Phil's knee. A second later Phil's mom leant across to take his hand, squeezing it.

"You're doing a good job today, Clint."

"I try," he said with a grin. Phil rolled his eyes but he didn't let that bother him. He was doing a good job and they both knew it.

"Are you holding up?" Phil asked, squeezing his mother's hand where it lay over Clint's. His mom shrugged, suddenly looking a little more tired than she had before.

"I'll be fine, Phil. It was never going to be easy. Having the children here helps. Your dad would have loved to see them running around. He wouldn’t have wanted me to sit here crying because he's dead. He'd have wanted us to remember how he was when he was alive. He was always so full of life."

"I know," Phil said, squeezing her hand.

"I wish he was here. I keep thinking he's going to walk in, like he's just stepped out for a cup of Joe or something and then I realise he's never coming back in and I get sad all over again, Phil."

"That happens," Clint said when Phil seemed at a loss for what to say. "It'll happen for ages, and then you'll stop expecting him to walk in every few minutes and for a while that'll be worse."

"I don't know what I'll do if I forget him," she said with a sigh, pulling her hand back from between theirs. "Though I suppose I never will. There'll always be things I want to tell him. I wish you'd brought Clint home while he was still alive, Phil. I know he worried about you being alone, it would have been a weight off his mind."

"We haven't been together that long," Phil hedged. "I didn't think...well, I didn't think it was that urgent."

"It's always that urgent," she scolded. "I thought we taught you that. Never put things off when you can do them now, no matter how tempting it is. It's easy to put something off and say you'll do it later but the more you do that the less likely it is you'll ever do it and, if you do, the more time you'll have wasted. You have to seize chances, Phil. We worried so much that you've just got comfortable. That you have a job and you're alright and you've stopped trying for exciting and happy because of it. You used to love adventure when you were little, we always thought you'd grow up to be an explorer or something."

"Trust me, I have enough excitement in my life," Phil assured her.

"When you joined the army we thought you'd stick with that," she said with a sigh. "Travel and danger. I never saw you in accounting."

"My job's good for me," Phil hedged. "I'm happy with what I do. Happy with who I am."

"I know that, dear," his mom sighed. "I just...I'm your mother. I want everything for you and then a little more on top of that."

"I promise you," Phil said, "My life brings more excitement than you'd think."

And that's when they heard the bomb go off.

***

Before either of them were aware of their actions Phil had his phone in his hand and Clint was at the window, peering out into the street. The rest of the family had drawn back, including Dave who normally bragged about his love of danger. Phil watched Clint scan the street and relaxed a little as he received the ‘all clear’ hand signal. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t happening directly outside.

As he moved to join Clint at the window his phone rang and any hope he had that this wasn't to do with them evaporated. He glanced down to see the call was coming from Stark's in-suit line and accepted it quickly.

"What's the situation?"

"Hello to you too, Agent," Stark said, his attitude as flippant as ever. Phil hadn't run as many missions as he'd like with the Avengers but he had been out with them often enough to hear the unspoken 'oh shit' beneath Stark's flippancy. "Know how you took some vacation time? Might have to cut it short."

"Give me coordinates, we'll be there as soon as we can."

"City centre’s gridlocked," Stark said, an edge of strain in his voice. "We've got a guy with what seems to be heat vision down here which wouldn't be so bad if he didn't have backup. Cap thinks this might be related to what you were looking into. Your team’s en-route but it'll be a little while. We need you on this. Give me your coordinates, I'll come get you."

Phil recited the coordinates from memory. If Centipede was involved with this it had the potential to get very messy very quickly. At least his team were incoming.

"Suit up," he said to Clint as the line to Stark went dead. "We're needed on the ground."

"Alright, sir," Clint said, and he was out of the door in seconds. Phil knew he had his gear stashed in the car for just such an emergency. Sometimes being paranoid really did pay off.

"Phil?"

He looked around to find his family watching him. There were a strange range of expression on their faces from fear to worry to admiration. His mother looked mostly worried, though.

"When I told you I was an accountant," he said, "It's possible I was understating."

"You mean lying?" Lizzy asked, an amusing quirk to her lips.

"I prefer to think of it as being economical with the truth," he said with a shrug. "What I do is, strictly, need to know. But there's no alternative to telling you in this situation."

"What do you mean, what you do?" John asked, stepping forward. "What on earth's going on?"

"Have you heard of S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he asked. A few faces remained uncomprehending though light came to a few others. Notably his mother’s who looked shocked for a second and then appalled.

"Phil," she said, voice tight.

"I did just tell you my job provided plenty of excitement."

And then Clint was back in the room decked out in a slightly scaled down version of his usual equipment, bow out. He had a radio in his free hand which he handed to Phil. Phil took it eagerly, ignoring the mumbling that had started among his assembled family to turn it on. The radio chatter of an ongoing operation was a comfort and he listened long enough to know that the situation was being brought under control before turning his attention back to the room.

"We need to move outside," he said to Clint. "Pickup's on its way."

"I hope it's a civilised pickup," Clint said with a shudder. "I'm starting to really miss quinjets."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Phil said.

"Holy shit, you're Hawkeye!"

All eyes in the room turned to Billy, Isobelle's thirteen year old son. He seemed to realise he'd said that out loud a second after the words left his mouth and he blushed bright red but Clint only laughed.

"Yeah, I am," he said. It wasn't as though there was any point in denying it after all. Billy seemed more shocked that Clint had admitted it.

"Incoming," Stark's voice said in Phil's ear. Phil signalled Clint out and the other man moved quickly. They'd always been good together in the field. He moved to follow when Dave suddenly stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

"Wait," he said, fingers digging in. "All this time you've been telling us you're an accountant when you're some kind of spy."

"Not a spy," Clint interjected before Phil could say anything for himself. He reached past Phil, gripping Dave's arm hard enough that Dave released Phil. "He's the best damn agent in the organisation. Stark's incoming, sir."

"I know," Phil said, ignoring Dave. He could deal with the man when he got back if Clint's message hadn't been clear enough. "Outside."

Nobody else tried to stop them though he couldn't help noting how most of them crowded round the window to watch. Lizzy even followed him to the door. Stark was already visible in the sky as was Thor which meant they were definitely leaving here in a less than dignified way and he really wished his mom wasn't watching.

"I always knew you were better than an accountant," Lizzy said, smirking. Phil rolled his eyes and then the suit was there. The faceplate retracted to Tony looking a little bruised but with a smirk on his face.

"Don't you get much by way of entertainment round here?" he asked, walking the few steps left to Lizzy's front door. "You want me to sign autographs?"

"I thought this was urgent?" Phil asked, eyebrow raised. Stark rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure Steve has it all in hand. He's Mr Plan, after all. Your team's about ten minutes out."

"Fine," Phil said as Thor crashed into the street behind Tony. He did considerably more property damage with his landing. That was the problem when you brought out the big guns.

"Son of Coul," Thor said in his gravest voice. It had lost some impact now Phil knew he used that voice for everything from dangerous missions to informing them they were out of pop tarts. "We must make haste to the scene."

"I'm on it," Phil said. "Can you take Hawkeye? I'll ride with Stark."

"No code name for me, Agent? I'm offended."

"You don't know how to be offended," Phil said, stepping closer to Stark. "Just for the record, this had better be really important to justify travelling like this."

"Says you," Clint said with disgust, stepping up to Thor. Thor smirked, wrapped an arm around Clint's waist and a second later they were in the air, hurtling away. With a sigh Phil stepped up to Stark and let himself be held. He really hated travelling like this.

"You know," Stark said, letting the faceplate drop down again. "If you keep wanting to get this close you're going to have to buy me dinner."

"Mind on the mission, Stark," Phil said, taking one last glance at the looks of utter disbelief on his family's faces as they took off.

***

Phil had, genuinely, never imagined a scenario that would lead to him bringing the Avengers to meet his family post-mission. Not only was he doing that but he was bringing his team, too. Skye was practically bouncing at the thought of meeting his family, no matter how much he assured her they weren't at all interesting.

The situation had been contained much more easily than the involvement of the Avengers had suggested, though a few of the town's municipal buildings would never be the same again. Centipede had been quick to cut their losses and a S.H.I.E.L.D. response team had been about ten minutes behind his team and within thirty minutes of his feet hitting the ground they had the main suspect heavily sedated and in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody and a few of the Centipede Agents too.

Thirty minutes more had taken care of the main footwork on the ground and then Clint had asked him if he wanted to get back to his family and suddenly both the Avengers and his team seemed to think that was an open invite.

Still, it was almost worth it for the look on his Lizzy's face when she opened the door to him and Captain America.

"Holy shit, Phil," she blurted without thinking and Phil couldn't help but laugh, shoving the door further open and walking in.

"I'm sorry to impose again," he said, making room in the hall for Skye to crowd in after him, her eyes already scanning the walls for blackmail material. He was glad she wouldn't find any baby pictures here. "The team followed me home."

"It's alright," she said, watching as Tony Stark, still in his suit, strolled through her door. "Isobelle's been cooking her feelings since you left anyway."

"Excellent," declared Thor, dropping Mjolnir next to the umbrella stand. "A feast to our victory!"

"It won't be that big of a feast," Phil interrupted before anyone could start to panic. "More likely sandwiches and cake."

"Both midguardian delights I value most highly," Thor said in his most reassuring voice, smiling a charming smile at Lizzy and making her blush.

"Hey," Tony said, pulling the helmet off his suit. "Stop charming everyone. If anyone's going to charm people around here it's going to be me."

"You can try," Nat said, coming through the door with May close behind. They seemed to be bonding in a way that Phil found slightly terrifying. Either of them alone he could cope with but the thought of them as friends somehow brought a sense of impending doom. As if maybe together they'd realise that the world would be a much better place if they just ran it and get on that.

"Hi," Lizzy mumbled. "You want to go through to the sitting room?"

"Thank you," May said at a nod from Phil, leading the way through. Skye and Thor followed her though Tony continued the process of removing the armour, aided now by Steve.

"Oh, hello," Simmons said, stepping into the hall. "Thank you for having us."

"No problem?" Lizzy said, her tone of voice turning it into a question somehow.

"We can go if it's inconvenient," Fitz said, following close on Simmons’ heel as usual.

"Fitz," she hissed. He raised an eyebrow as if to ask what the problem was and she glared at him before turning back to Lizzy. "We're sorry to intrude on your grief but we've very grateful for the hospitality."

"That's fine," Lizzy said, though she still sounded unsure.

"We can leave, if it's not conven..."

"Fitz, go through to the living room," Phil said. Fitz jumped a little at the sound of Phil’s voice then blushed and scuttled through, Simmons close after him as always.

"You work with all these people?" Lizzy hissed, watching them go. "What in the hell do you actually do, anyway?"

"I'm just an agent," he said, keeping his tone level.

"Don't bullshit me," she hissed. "Just an agent doesn't work with the Avengers. How long have you been with S.H.I.E.L.D.? Why didn't you say something?"

"Involvement in S.H.I.E.L.D. is on a need-to-know basis," he said, giving her a little helpless shrug. "Besides, you'd have only worried. I didn't want you to worry about me. I'm not going to say what I do isn't dangerous but I work with the best people in the world at the job we do. It's not as dangerous as you might think."

"Your mom's going to kill you," Lizzy said as Ward come through the door. Clint was right on his heels, they had a strange kind of rivalry in the field. He hoped they weren't about to drag it through his family.

"Bruce is sleeping it off in the Jeep," Clint said, stepping in close to Phil and suddenly Phil was aware of the situation they were in. His family expected one kind of behaviour from Clint, his team something very different. For a second he tried to strategise his way around it and then he consciously stopped himself. He was being ridiculous. He couldn’t pretend nothing had changed. Just the thought of going back to how they were broke his heart and maybe there was a good excuse to wait but he’d been giving Clint excuses for far too long.

"Clint," he said, taking hold of the other man's elbow. "Can I talk to you outside for a second?"

"Sure?" Clint said with a raised eyebrow. He backed out again and Phil followed quickly, shutting the door on the situation inside. He grabbed Clint's arm and lead him down the street a little so they couldn't be seen and he didn't have to watch Fitz chatting to Gideon in the window.

"You alright, sir?" Clint asked, worry in his expression. "You want me to try and get rid of everyone? I mean, I know we're all crashing your dad's funeral and it's kind of ridiculous. They'd understand."

"No," he said with a resigned sigh. "They're in now, it's too late to stop that. Besides, they're a new audience for all the stories. I just wanted to ask you something as I think things are about to get complicated."

"Complicated?" Clint asked, frowning.

"The part where my entire family think we're dating and the team just walked in would be what I'm talking about."

"Shit," Clint said with a sigh, as if that'd only just occurred to him. "I guess you want me to come clean to your mom? This was my misunderstanding after all."

"Actually," Phil said, reaching out to touch Clint's arm. It was all so much easier when they were touching. He should really have started touching Clint earlier. "I was wondering if, when we get home, you'd like to go out some time?"

"Go out?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"Yes," Phil said.

"This is just..." Clint said, reaching up to grip Phil's elbows and then stopping himself. He kept his eyes down on the floor. "You can't do this and then take it away again, Phil. Not to me. I couldn't..."

"I'm not making this choice off-hand," Phil said. "The last few days...it's been everything I wanted. Everything I didn't think I could have and the more I'm with you the less the reasons I gave you for not doing this seem to matter."

"That’s what I'm worried about," Clint said, stepping back. "This is all about the situation. You're kind of emotional about losing your dad, I get that. Things get heated. But when we're back at work..."

"When we're back at work I'm still going to want you," Phil assured him. "I have for a long time but I haven't been brave enough, I guess. Not willing to risk what I had. But I can't go back to how we were before now. Knowing what I'm missing, well, it's worth the risk."

"Seriously?" Clint asked, finally meeting Phil's eye. "You're not taking it back."

"I'm not taking it back," Phil promised. "This is real."

"Good," Clint said with a sigh, and then Clint was kissing him and it was glorious.

***

The problem with the Avengers, well, there were many problems with the Avengers but the one Phil was most concerned about right now was that when the Avengers walked into a place, that place tended to become about them. Since his new team had started running missions with the Avengers they’d become the Avengers’ backup band and he didn’t like that, was trying to shake the image. It wasn’t like they meant to but, well, there was something about them that drew attention and it wasn’t just Tony though he didn’t help.

The long and the short of it was he expected to walk back into his father’s funeral and find it had suddenly become some kind of Avengers meet and greet. He couldn’t blame anyone, it was just kind of how it happened and he’d been too busy putting things right with Clint to stop it. He couldn’t bring himself to regret that.

Still, he made himself take a deep breath before letting himself back into the house because, well, he had certain expectations.

Turns out he needn’t have worried. Which was new when it came to the Avengers. Most of the team seemed to have dispersed through the house which helped a little. The family weren’t all crowded around either which also helped. FitzSimmons were still in the living room listening incredulously to something Gideon was saying. He could see that going badly but he wasn’t going to intervene. Gideon had thought he could bully his way into leading the ceremony against Phil’s dad’s wishes, after all. He didn’t deserve to be saved from over-excited scientists. Tony was stood in the corner talking to the kids which was good. They were clearly in awe of him so that gave him the ego boost he was going to need without drawing focus from why they were actually here. Phil’s Uncle Dave was loitering near Stark too looking a little star struck. Stark was ignoring him which was all for the good. Phil didn’t like Dave but he didn’t want to see him completely destroyed.

And Steve was still in the room. Still wearing the damn costume, even. He’d taken the seat Clint had been sat in before, the one right next to Phil’s mom, and had taken up chatting to her. He had to admit he fanboyed a little inside at the sight of Captain America chatting with his mom. He was only human and still not entirely over the fact that Captain America was a friend now.

“You should go talk to her,” Clint encouraged, squeezing his hand. “Explain things. I’m going to go find Nat and make sure she doesn’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“Keep her and May away from Lizzy, she’s bad enough without those two adopting her.”

“I’ll try, boss,” Clint said and then, hesitantly, he placed a soft kiss on Phil’s cheek before he left.

And then Phil had no choice but to go talk to his mother.

“Hey,” he said, dropping to sit on the stool beside her chair. “You alright?”

“I should be asking you that,” she said, frowning at him disapprovingly. “How long have you been working this job? You never told us.”

“Since I came out of the army,” Phil admitted. “I was head hunted by the guy who’s now the director, Nick. You met him once. Only has one eye.”

“I remember,” his mom said. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell us.”

“I wanted to. It’s just that a lot of the stuff we do is need to know. It’s dangerous, Mom. And I get that means you want to know even more but you knowing might place you in danger and I wasn’t willing to risk that. Besides, you’d only worry.”

“I will worry,” she said. “But, Phil, your dad would have loved to know you did this. He worried that you weren’t happy, that you weren’t meeting your potential. If he’d known about all this…”

“I wish I could have told him.”

“Well, at least I can tell you he’d have approved.”

“Thanks, that means a lot,” Phil said, squeezing her hand.

“Good,” he mom said, letting go of him. “Now go do some damage control. Steve was just chatting to me about New York in the 40s. I always wanted to visit.”

“I’ll do that,” Phil said, standing and giving Steve a grateful smile. At least if she was occupied chatting she might not be as sad. He knew it wouldn’t help when this had all died down and she was alone but, for now, whatever got her through the day. Quietly he left them and went to find Skye before she could get into anything she shouldn’t.

***

“You know, AC,” Skye said, sprawling back in her chair. “You don’t have to come with us just because we’re leaving. You should have stayed with your family for a few more days.”

“I’m fine” Phil said firmly. He was honestly kind of familied out. It wasn’t that he didn’t love them. He really, really did but, well, there was only so much of them he could stand in one go and it was definitely better to get out now before Dave came to his senses and started talking again or his mother found some more boxes for him to move. They’d be fine without him and he’d pop in as soon as he could to make sure they were alright, though he was kind of aware that wasn’t going to be for a while.

“They’re kind of exhausting anyway,” Clint said from where he was sprawled out in a chair next to Phil. “I mean, no offense boss.”

“None taken,” Phil said with a smile. Offering Clint a lift back was just good manners, really. Phil couldn’t leave him to drive back to New York all on his own. That’d be cruel. He reached over and ran his hand over Clint’s hair and Clint turned to give him the most wonderful grin.

“Oh my god, is this how it’s going to be all the time now?” Skye asked, rolling her eyes at them. “You’re going to be unbearable.”

“Don’t be silly,” Simmons said with a little smile. “I think it’s quite sweet. Don’t you, Fitz?”

“Sure,” Fitz said, though he looked less than certain about that. Clint rolled his eyes, pulling himself up from his seat.

“You know, boss. I think I’m kind of worn out from all your family. Think I might go lie down. You want to come join me?”

“Very subtle, Barton,” he said, but he got up anyway. He ignored his team’s reactions, instead following Clint up the stairs into his space and locking the door behind them. They’d all get used to it. To be honest, it showed a little more of his humanity to them than he was comfortable with but they’d get over that. They’d all get over that. It was worth it.

Clint had moved further into the room, claiming Phil’s desk chair. It wasn’t exactly spacious up here but Phil had a feeling they’d cope.

“Hey,” Clint said, reaching out to fiddle with the things on the desk. “You’re not having any regrets, I hope. I mean, now you’re back to being Agent Coulson instead of Phil and all.”

“I should hope that when we’re alone I’m still Phil,” Phil said, moving to stand by Clint. “And no, no regrets. I meant what I said, I wouldn’t mess you around.”

“I’m glad,” Clint said with a little grin. Phil let himself reach out a touch. A brush of fingers across Clint’s cheek, a gentle tug at his hair and Clint was standing and turning into Phil’s arms and leaning in to be kissed.

If Phil had known this was what he was missing out on all this time he’d have gotten over himself sooner. Clint kissed with a kind of desperation, all hurry and grabbing hands and deep intensity like he still expected Phil to change his mind at any moment. Like he was afraid that might be taken away.

“Hey,” Phil mumbled, pulling back as far as Clint would let him. “We don’t need to rush this, you know.”

“I know,” Clint replied, flushing. “Just figured we’d waited long enough?”

“Yeah, there is that,” Phil agreed, running his hands down Clint’s side. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t been thinking about this. The last few days in particular. “I just want to make sure you know I’m serious. I don’t back down on things like this after I’m committed. If you want to take things slow…”

“That’s the last thing I want,” Clint said, not so subtly untucking Phil’s shirt from his trousers. “Come on, Sir. I’ve been waiting for you to catch up with how good we could be for forever. You’ve gotta work with me here.”

“Alright,” Phil agreed with a laugh. He leant back in for another kiss and Clint seemed less intense this time, more relaxed. He worked his hands up under Phil’s shirt and Phil wouldn’t be a gentleman if he didn’t return the favour. Clint’s body was a work of art, after all, so he let himself enjoy it. Let his hands run up Clint’s back, around and over the planes of his stomach and up his chest. Clint gasped into his mouth as he found Clint’s nipples, teasing them briefly before pulling back so he could get Clint’s shirt off.

He’d always known Clint was beautiful but there was a whole other dimension to it when Clint was naked for him. He’d seen Clint without his shirt on ops but there was a kind of shy awkwardness when he stood there just outside the circle of Phil’s arms, waiting for Phil to pass judgement.

“You’re beautiful,” Phil found himself saying, and Clint beamed like all his Christmases had come early.

“Hey, you clean up pretty well yourself, sir,” Clint said, stepping forward to unfasten Phil’s shirt. For a second Phil thought about stopping him, about insisting his keep his clothes on but that wouldn’t be fair. Clint was going to see it some time.

The shirt fell off and Clint, Clint stared. His fingers traced the edge of the scar, almost like he was afraid to touch it properly, then suddenly he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Phil and hugging him to tightly it almost hurt.

“I love you,” he said, fingers digging into Phil’s back. “I love you so much it kind of scares me.”

“It’s alright,” Phil whispered, holding Clint close. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“Worth it,” Clint said, fiercely. “I’d wait again if I had to though, Phil, I really don’t want to wait.”

“I got that impression,” Phil said, gripping Clint’s hips tightly and pushing forward a little so he could feel Clint’s hardening dick through his trousers. “Come on, let’s go lie down.”

The rest on their clothes came off on the way to Phil’s narrow bed. Clint lay down first, sprawling across Phil’s space like some kind of god and Phil wished he had a camera to hand so he could keep this image forever. It’d certainly keep him warm on the nights they’d inevitably be apart.

There wasn’t much space but they were both pretty determined. He ended up straddling Clint’s hips, both of them kissing and touching whatever they could as they thrust together into Clint’s fist. It didn’t take long for either of them to finish but Phil didn’t mind. There’d be time to linger over each other later. Time for everything later as they were going to be together for a damn long time.

He’d wasted enough time, he wasn’t going to let anything come between them now.

 

**EPILOGUE  
**   
_“And a funeral, I found out, is like a wedding in reverse, with less time to plan.”  
― J. Lincoln Fenn, Poe_

“I’m starting to think we should have just eloped,” Phil said, looking around the crowded hall. The ceremony had gone smoothly, he’d never been worried about that. It was the party after he wasn’t sure about. His family, the Avengers, his team, half of S.H.I.E.L.D. and an open bar as a wedding present from Tony Stark. It was asking for trouble.

“You know,” Clint said, bumping elbows with him. “We could just slip out the back. I mean, I guess we should do the rounds first but nobody’ll notice…”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Natasha said over their shoulder, making Clint jump. Really he should have known better. “We worked hard on this, you’re going to enjoy it.”

“We didn’t want this,” Clint protested, gesturing round the hall. “I don’t see what was wrong with a little civil ceremony and takeout at the tower.”

“I told you not to mention it to Mom until it was over,” Phil said with a shrug. Their original plan had been very low key but then Clint had to go and open his mouth and suddenly it was going to be a family thing which meant everyone together and if all Phil’s family were going to be there they had to have people for Clint even if Clint had apparently been adopted by the Coulson clan anyway. So that meant the Avengers and his friends at S.H.I.E.L.D. and that meant everyone else they knew, apparently.

“Don’t be so depressing, this is going to be fun,” Natasha said, stepping up and slipping her arm through Clint’s. “Me and Steve worked hard to plan this. We’ve curbed the worst of Tony’s excesses, after all.”

“And we’re forever grateful to you,” Clint said. Phil smiled to himself. He’d known making Natasha and Steve the best men (Natasha had refused the title maid of honour) had been a good move. They’d both taken their duties very seriously and, well, it could have turned out a lot worse. It was bigger then they’d have liked but still true to the spirit they’d wanted, something not too extravagant.

“Well, you can show me how grateful you are by not ducking out,” she said, taking a step back.

“Fine,” Clint grumbled. “Whatever.”

“And by getting on with the first dance,” she said, smiling sweetly.

Clint winced but Phil but rolled his eyes. They’d both known it was going to happen, though they’d both rather avoid the spotlight. It’d only be short and then everyone would move out into the dance floor, hopefully.

“Go and let them know we’re ready,” he said, taking Clint’s arm. “We’ll just go say hi to my mom then we’ll dance like we’re told to.”

“Good,” she said, turning and disappearing into the crowd.

“Do we have to do that,” Clint grumbled, though even as he did he shrugged his arm out of Phil’s hold and reached over to lace their fingers together instead.

“We do,” Phil said, leading the way towards his mother. She was still sat holding court at what had previously been the head table. The best thing about a Stark arranged wedding was the food had been excellent. They should have slipped out while people were still digesting before the party started. “But it’ll be over soon and then we have an entire week to ourselves.”

“Unless one of us gets called in,” Clint grumbled. Phil just nodded because, yes, that was always a possibility but he’d spoken with Nick and nothing short of an alien invasion was going to interrupt their honeymoon. It was a wedding present.

“Mom,” Phil said, drawing to a stop next to his mom. Clint stopped a pace behind him but kept hold of his hand. “Are you having a good time?”

“Oh, I am,” she said, dabbing at her eyes theatrically. “I’d given up on you ever having this, Phil. I feel so much better now I know you’re not going to grow old alone.”

“Hey, I’m not staying with him when he’s old,” Clint protested with a cheeky grin. “I’m only here for his body.”

“Oh, you be quiet,” his mom said, flicking her handkerchief at him. Phil really hadn’t expected the two of them to get on once the grief they’d bonded over had faded beyond the fact they both obviously loved him but once Clint had calmed down and started to joke with her, well, they got on a little too well.

“You make sure you shout if you need anything,” Phil said, leaning over to squeeze her hand.

“Oh, don’t you be ridiculous. You need to take care of each other today, not me! And Steve’s already promised to keep an eye on me do don’t you fret. He’s a good boy.”

“He is,” Phil agreed.

“But you like me more,” Clint interpreted, squeezing Phil’s hand playfully.

“Yeah, I really do,” Phil agreed, squeezing his husband’s hand back and he was never going to get tired of thinking of Clint that way. His husband.

“Will the happy couple please make their way to the dance floor for the first dance,” the DJ said, crisp and clear and it seemed somehow wrong to be hearing a DJ at party clearly but that’s what you got when Stark was paying for the equipment.

“I guess we’d better,” Clint said with a sigh.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll think you don't want to dance with me,” Phil replied, waving to his mother and letting Clint lead him towards the dance floor.

“No,” Clint grumbled. “I’ll dance with you any time you want, I just don’t want anyone watching me do it.”

“Don’t even think about them,” Phil said as they emerged from the crowd. “Just look at me. They don’t matter, we do.”

“Hell yeah we do,” Clint grumbled, leading him to the middle of the floor and moving them into position. Phil let Clint lead, he didn’t mind following in these circumstances. Not when it was Clint.

As the song started he leant forward, resting his forehead against Clint’s and swaying to the music. Clint smiled, soft and secret, and pulled him closer, and the rest of the room might as well as not have existed after all because he was in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Coulson family tree -  
>   
> Sorry if it looks like it was made in ms paint. That's becasue it was made in ms paint. 
> 
> This fic has been a bit of a weird journey for me. It helped me think through some stuff I didn't know I needed to think through and it's been in various stages of completion since November so, basically, thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
